faith in the future by Cami M. '23

In my AP psychology class, we learned about the different theories of emotion; specifically what comes to mind is the Schachter-Singer theory, where the experience of emotions hinges on two things: (1) the physiological arousal itself and (2) the interpretation of that arousal. Obviously this theory is wrong; emotions can be experienced before we think about them, but I think a lot about (2) in particular.

These past couple of days I’ve been wading in a sea of big thoughts and feelings, but I can’t individually identify them. It feels a lot like trying to untangle jewelry; I try to undo it, ruffle through my thoughts to find a thread I can tug on, but find that the chains are tangled too deeply and I ultimately give up until I have the patience to think on it again.

I am going through a breakup. Maybe I should’ve read Rona’s post earlier instead of waiting until now to read it, maybe it would’ve helped me figure things out. But, yes, I am going through something that feels like the hardest thing I have done thus far into my life because I am doing the scary thing. I am walking away from something I know is good for me, but I know it is not what I need right now.

I have been in committed relationships back to back since I was 14. I haven’t been alone in life for longer than three months in this time and have relied on some partner as an anchor for these past seven years.

And now, as I graduate, I’m always, always, always thinking of the future. In a blogpost I wrote not too long ago that is now honestly probably the most painful to reread, I wrote:

But when we broke up, that future shattered into a million pieces and it became limitless. Untethered by the wants of anyone else except for myself. I imagined a life of biomedical devices, then a life of software, a life of grad school. I dreamed of Los Angeles beaches, of London fog, of New York City lights.

Now that future that I’ve dreamed of is rapidly approaching, becoming more solid in form, more real. The image that forms my head is a little fuzzy, splashes of vivid colors here and there and buildings I don’t quite recognize, but want to know. Seeing without glasses.

I’ve come to realize that this blogpost was not only about the fear of leaving MIT, it was the fear of leaving MIT and jumping into a future that was so solidly in place for me. It was the fear of committing to a single, defined path.

I’ve been talking with my friends and I told them that my biggest decision right now was understanding whether this fear of commitment was a personal character flaw I needed to push through, or if this just meant I wasn’t in a place to settle down yet.

And then one of my friends laughed loudly and said “I think commitment issues at 21 years old is fucking normal.”

I so desperately want to think that I’ve found the one. I so desperately want to be done and settle down and say that I’ve found the love of my life and that this is what the rest of my life is going to look like, but I can’t because saying that would simply just not be true.

I’m not ready. I need to be stupid and alone and I need to fuck up and I need to live on my own and just be a complete and utter dumbass for a little bit. I am not ready to talk about kids or marriage or moving in. And I think really that’s what this whole senior year has been building up to–this realization.

I finish that blogpost with:

I don’t know where I’m going, but I hope wherever I walk, it’s somewhere good and somewhere beautiful. Somewhere where I can grow just as much as I did at MIT, where I can thrive like I did here.

And all of this is still very true; I think the place that I will find the most growth is on my own.

I’m lucky to have loved and been loved by someone this deeply and genuinely; I think it’s a very rare thing to experience and I learned so much in this relationship. But for now, I push on.