Love actually is all around

My heart beat with nervousness as I dragged my bags that seemed to have gotten heavier in the apprehensive drive up to Broward Hall. The uncomfortable introductions to potential friends in my dorm and the uncertainty of my young adult life were enough to turn my stomach to water.

I remember my freshman year like it was yesterday. I anticipated spending my last summer in Miami going to house parties with childhood friends, but I instead settled for awkward small talk at campus mixers and forced smiles in the girls’ dorm bathroom. Needless to say, I entered my college experience subconsciously disappointed.

My first semesters introduced me to a sense of loneliness I had never experienced before. The pressure to participate in the social jungle that was college, purely for the sake of survival, pushed me into a hole of insecurity that I sank deeper into each night. The girl in the mirror I once loved began to fade, and I slowly stopped recognizing my own reflection. Being in Gainesville felt like taking a step backwards, and I struggled to picture myself spending four years in a place I felt I didn’t belong in. Sweating in vibrant bars full of drunk strangers made me miss the friends I left back home, and any intoxicated attempts at conversation were quickly forgotten the next morning. I lost my sense of identity trying to chase a version of myself that people might like more, and I came up empty every time.

After two miserable semesters, I returned home for winter break. Indulging in home-cooked meals and early mornings on the beach grounded me; I was reminded of the girl I thought I lost. There was so much to love about my hometown, and I was so reluctant to trade it all again for a place I couldn’t see the beauty in. I was terrified of my depression consuming me if I returned to Gainesville; I feared that if I didn’t make a change soon, I would never get out of the hole I was in. It was then that I made the decision to find the girl I used to love within myself and change my perspective on the life I was so afraid of facing.

So, upon returning to school, I went to Target, bought a journal and some pens, sat outside and simply paid attention. I tried thinking of things that made me happy — things that made living a little bit easier. My brain went straight to Miami: Cuban sandwiches, beach sunrises, mango smoothies and sandy feet. I reminisced about childhood summers: oatmeal cookies, mint tea, sunburns and favorite shirts with holes in them. I was reminded of my mom’s famous chocolate cake, the dog-eared pages of my favorite books, coke slushies at the movies and secret sips of champagne on January 1. I figured if I could think of a hundred simple things that made me smile, then maybe the world wasn’t as dark as I thought.

What began as a desperate attempt to ground myself became a practice. I started a list in my phone; I would write down every little thing that could possibly bring me joy. Coffee for dessert, citrus-scented candles, dancing in the kitchen, flowers on the side of the road, art museums, cats that like you…the list seemed to stretch for miles. Whenever I felt a wave of sadness, I would open my notes app and be reminded of all the good that quietly exists in the world if I would just pay attention to it.

In being more attentive, I began to exert gratitude into the world around me. I started noticing all of the millions of little celebrations happening everywhere that I had been missing: grandmothers cooking their secret family recipes, kids’ birthday parties, teenagers falling in love for the first time…I realized happiness isn’t just the extreme highs, it’s also L-shaped couches, your favorite sweatshirt, ‘I love yous’ with no context and someone making you coffee in the morning. Finding pieces of gratitude in my everyday life instilled an intention in me: to start decorating my life with the small joys that make me smile.

This practice proved to be a light in the darkness and the sense of consistency I was looking for amidst my unpredictable emotions. I learned that gratitude isn’t just sitting around the table at Thanksgiving talking about what you’re thankful for. It’s the little things that make life beautiful, whether you notice them or not. And in choosing to notice them, I’ve found that no circumstance is without celebration, and there is light to be found in even the darkest of times.

Strike Out,

Writer: McCall Horton

Editor: Naina Chauhan

Gainesville

McCall Horton is a writer for Strike Magazine GNV. If you need to find her, she’s probably rotting in a cafe and will drive hundreds of miles just to go to a good one. A manic journaler and book snob, you can invite her on pretty much any trip at a moment’s notice and she’ll say yes. You can reach her on instagram at @mccallhrenee or by email at mccallhorton1@gmail.com

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