Part 1/4: All of the Firsts

Coming into university at the age of 17 was daunting enough. Two months ago, I would have told you that I was even more terrified of what was to come, graduating at 21. Not for one moment did I think that I would celebrate my graduation by ordering some key lime pie and watching my favourite Disney movie.

Over the last four years, I've had more than my fair share of experiences, both good and bad. I can say in full honesty that I have never experienced more pain, loss, grief, joy, laughter, and love.

With the state of the world as it is, I wanted to take some time and reflect while I'm cooped up with my thoughts. This isn't goodbye. And yet, sitting on my couch, thinking about everything that has happened since I moved to Vancouver, I could never have imagined I would be who I am now.

This is the beginning of the four-part saga detailing the last four years and the number of events, hurdles, and altogether confusing moments I have experienced.

Let me paint a picture of August 2016.

Vancouver had sunshine and a warm breeze. The heat, much more bearable than the sweltering desert I had just come from and the combination of the ocean, mountain, and forests fit the aesthetic I had dreamed of.

Even before moving in, I knew what seemed to be like hundreds of people because of the Whatsapp, Facebook, and Instagram groups where you could introduce yourself.

Moving into the 12th floor of a new, all-white building, where my room's hallway was the length of my arm span, which is not saying much. My mother and little brother with me, trying to fit my whole closet, my toaster oven, kettle, and anything you could imagine into this tiny dorm room. Then came my first farewell- my first goodbye. The tears falling before I could speak, my whole world was leaving me alone. The woman I looked up to my entire life was going back to the only place I called home with my baby brother, who will forever deny that he too shed a tear.

And there I was, in my little dorm, all set up and not wanting to be alone with my thoughts. It wasn't long until I found friends, friends that I now have come to know as family.

I thought it would be harder to find a group of people and space where I was comfortable. All it took was walking over to the shanty dorm, where the only person I knew from school was, and we walked up to an open door, poked our heads in, and made our first friends.

The next few days were busy, and our little group expanded from 2 to 8, and we had done everything together. Our first Point Grill brunch. Our first time doing laundry. Our first frat party. My first noise complaint-all cramped in my tiny room snacking and, as usual, always laughing. First time going to the bank. First time going to the doctor without my mother. First all-nighter at school. First frat party. First concert together. First annual thanksgiving. First birthdays.

And for each of these firsts, I was never alone because I had my friends.

The second goodbye that semester was directed at something I took for granted, living in the desert, the sunshine. One of the biggest pranks of my entire life was that sunshine. Little did I know that it would proceed to rain for over 70% of the semester, but honestly, it didn't matter.

I had my five classes. I had joined a sorority. I had friends who hung out in my room until the RA came and told us to quiet down because of the unstoppable laughter. I had a neighbour who helped me open my pickle jar. I had an introduction over spilled butter-chicken. So much was happening that I didn't get a chance to feel alone or even sad. Until my birthday.

My mom always made my birthday a big deal, even when I didn't want it to be. I didn't care that I was turning 18. On that day, I only wanted to be with her and my family. I wanted family lunch on Friday and for my uncle to shove my face into my cake. I wanted to sit in my grandmother's living room and watch my older brother take a nap because he was in a food coma. So yes, I missed them and my life there.

What I was not expecting was Hala walking into my room at 12:00 pm the day before my birthday with a box of Timbits and a candle, singing and dancing to the FOB version of Happy Birthday and the culturally appropriative Phineas and Ferb song. All to make sure that I would be celebrating my birthday in Dubai.

These were friends that I made that year and how precious they became to me.

The first snowfall of the year happened during exams when 12 of us were staying up in the cafeteria studying. Everyone ran out, and for many, it was their first snowfall ever. The pure joy was infectious, and to this day, it's one of my favourites and defining memories of that year and my entire experience at UBC.

Now to avoid going through an entire eight months of memories, I'll make this short.

I had a better first year than most. I know many people that didn't have that kind of experience. For many, their first year is filled with anxiety-unable to find friends, always seeking a space that makes them feel at home, and consistently struggling.

This is all to say that this was before a pandemic.

For those going into university for the first time or for those returning, remember that you are not alone in feeling a bit lost and confused. The one thing I urge people not to do is, compare yourself to others. Every experience is different, and that's not only to insert cliche in this piece.

Not everyone is going to graduate in four years. Not everyone knows what they're going to study. The Greek system isn't for everyone. Joining your cultural community club is not mandatory. Take steps and try new things, if it doesn't turn out how you want, that's okay.

In this new socio-political climate, it's even more important to be kind and patient with yourself.

To those entering and leaving university, we're all navigating a new space, and we're learning what this could mean for our futures. Take some time and reflect on your goals, memories, and continuously try new things.

Clarity will come with time, and just as my second year taught me, things happen, and you have no control over them. All you can do is your best and stay hopeful that things will indeed, get better.