We’ve all been there at some point — that itch we can’t scratch, that problem we can’t solve, the thing that eventually snowballs into one of the most annoying feelings — frustration. The mere existance of a stress ball industry is enough to convince me it's a pretty normal feeling. But frustration, stress, pressure, whatever you call it, presents people with an array of options.
Some people might handle these feelings in a mature, adult-like manner, in which a healthy form of relief is undergone. Another person might think she has four days left before moving out of Northbrook, and though she is five years past the age of a socially acceptable temper tantrum, oh she’s going for it anyway.
And that is what led to my current situation. Gripping my laptop, sitting behind a locked door, cringing at the sound of nearby footsteps. But not paranoid whatsoever. No way.
Yes, I have just undergone an 18-year-old temper tantrum. How do I feel? Like I’m five years old.. Awaiting my punishment, brainstorming parental reactions, but optimistic that the issue may never present itself. Can I avoid it for four days? I have a guilty conscious. Odds are I’ll rat myself out before this article is even complete. But let’s focus more on the center of this issue, the fact the this temper tantrum did actually reveal itself. Is this embarrassing? Yes. Am I sharing it anyway? Apparently.
So here goes nothing.
COLLEGE! WOOHOO! That’s the typical reaction stemming from my friends these last few weeks as we are sent off on final goodbyes. Of course, an amazing journey lies ahead. Come on, it’s college. But what’s scarier than heading off to college? Being there. There’s a mix of emotions and quite frankly, it’s overwhelming (hence the temper tantrum). Packing up your life into your family car and moving away. Alone. No more (once a month) home-cooked meals — sorry to rat you out mom — or simply surrendering to your bed after a stressful day. Your room, it’s not so personalized anymore. Within my 11x12 foot dorm room (no that was not a typo) is someone else’s space. Their life. And my mom, my best friend in this entire solar system, is no longer a scream away, but a phone call instead. Sometimes phone services don’t always have the best service, you know.
But these feelings aren’t specifically limited to college freshman. No. They surely include my sister, who experienced her first day of high school recently. Or my brother, venturing out on his first glimpse of mid-highschool freedom, the oh so awaited junior open lunch. Soon enough both of them will discover a whole other new sourc eof frustration called the ACT.
So excuse us for possibly being the slightest bit on edge. Yes, I’m so excited. Excited for the new people, new experiences and the new life ahead of me. But these teardrops on my keyboard aren’t solely tears of joy. They’re fear, they’re the unknown, and a little bit of annoyance for making the keyboard so slippery. This is all so new.
I’m also sincerely sorry about my footprint caved in the upstairs hallway. Confessions of a teenage temper tantrum.