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Writer's pictureKate Nevers

the walk back home

Updated: Jan 2, 2023


I am most myself when the leaves are transitioning to their autumnal hues of burnt yellows and fiery oranges, when the weather starts to let up on its merciless heat and the crispness of the air is reason enough to breathe deep, when fashion can return to experimental layering and there are as many flannel-clad men on campus as there are leaves falling from trees, when menus and store shelves are selling everything pumpkin and caramel apple you could want, when a warm latte is sitting next to my laptop, when the shift into a new season reminds us, once again, that we have another chance to be whomever it is we'd like to be.


This autumn, I feel very comfortable with myself. Chalk it up to age or the growing desire to know oneself completely that accompanies age. I do more for myself. I've gotten to the point where I enjoy my own company just as much as the company of others'. I can quietly acknowledge my strengths and know that my weaknesses don't diminish them one bit. I can take disappointment and rejection and know that it is not an affront on my character or my worth. I've taken the time to get to know myself--the ugly parts and the parts I'm proud of, who I am when I'm with others and who I am when I think no one is watching. I understand that you are your worst critic, so I am getting better at showing myself the kindness and patience I unthinkingly give to others. I've realized that you move different, that people gravitate toward you more, when you like who you are--so I make myself laugh (because I am literally so funny) and take myself out to coffee and annotate the margins and do everything that makes me feel most myself and most alive.

The self-love narrative is exhausting though. Because there are days when I feel like a nuisance to the people in my life, when I wonder if I'll be anything bigger once I graduate, when all I can focus on is the crater-size pimple at my hairline, when I worry I was too curt with the barista who's just trying to get through her shift. I hate sad music but there are days when only Godspeed and Piano Man understand me. I hate cloudy days and windowless rooms but there are days when a clean slate is exactly what you need. I hate romance movies with realistic endings where they don't end up together...but sometimes that is life. I hate feeling inadequate or asking others for help or feeling like I owe someone something, but lately I've been trying to remind myself that PEOPLE WANT TO BE THERE FOR YOU.

In ways you can't imagine. To lengths you couldn't guess. I want to take all my friends and shake them by the shoulders until they get this through their thick skulls. It is such a gift to meet people who stick. Who aren't going anywhere no matter who you are, who you become, or what mistakes you make. Who revel in your joys and weather your storms with you. Who ask you how your day was and remember your coffee order and know your favorite study spots. Who listen even when they might not understand. Who wait until you get in the door safely before driving away. Who entertain your questionable ideas, taste in men, and affinity for Greyhouse on Sundays.


A lot of the important people in my life have been needing to hear this yell scream shouted into their ears lately. Break-ups, wilting friendships, unanswerable questions, uncertainty, exhaustion. The tears we shed, the heartache we think no one notices, the days at the end of which we can't recall laughing at all, the private thoughts as we're falling asleep--we go through none of this alone. As convenient as it is to believe we are unique in our problems, we are, in fact, all part of the beautiful, imperfect human condition. That alone is sometimes enough to remind me that I have people on my side. Whatever rainy day I'm trying to get through, whatever seed of doubt I'm sowing--there are others who have walked before me and dozens more who will follow behind.

This walk is one that we are all on. We see the same wildflowers briefly beautifying the side of the highway before we speed on to our destination, the same twilight filtering through the trees, the same birds flying above us in v-formation and perched along telephone wires, the same weeds pushing through the cracks, the same abandoned lighter on the side of the road, the same moon that guides the tides and us on our way back home. It is impossible to look at something someone else hasn't already seen, difficult still to look at it in a way someone hasn't already. How distinctly un-alone I'm convinced we'd feel if we realized this more often.


I stumbled upon a quote my freshman year of high school that is actually the most cliché shit I have ever read...and yet it also gets it just right: "We're all just walking each other home" (Ram Dass). As introspective and insightful as we like to think we are, we seem to forget this.

A few weeks ago, one of my dearest friends told our group she's been unhappy for a reason she didn't expect us to understand. And god that broke me. Because the desire to feel understood? To feel valued and looked after? To have someone who understands you without a word or with just a glance? That is universal. Our individual struggles we know as intimately as we know ourselves--they are never ours to carry alone. Friends, family, therapists, journals, music, long walks want to lighten our loads and it is one of life's greatest privileges to be able to do this for someone. Too many people, present company included, feel that our rainy days and bad moods are for us to work through alone, are burdens we shouldn't impose on anyone else because everyone else is sorting through their own shit. But it is because we're all sorting out our own that we understand how important it is to let others be there for us.


So to this girl, who lights up my life in more ways than she knows (and whose laugh enters the room well before she does), I want you to hear again that you should never have to beg for someone's love. To my roommate, you are never too much to love for the people who are here to stay, and when it comes to matters of the heart, loving hard will never be a bad thing. To my accomplice in all things questionable, I think you should donate to Pi Kapps' philanthropy again...but more so, I think I am one of the luckiest people to know your heart as well as you've let me. And it is because of this that I know you have already the foundation of strength and resolve to get through everything you're going through (just in case you don't...keep Demi on speed dial. Her manifestation and aura cleansing techniques might be what saves you.). To the kid who sat on my bed the other night and told me--between hits of his disgusting nasty vape that he needs to quit--that talking about the real stuff is a "burden" to others, I had taken out my earbuds and paused my homework, turned in my desk chair to face you. You had my full attention. I want to hear everything you have to say. Getting to listen to my friends is never a burden. To my across-the-street neighbor and one of my oldest friends at Purdue, it has been a privilege over the past three semesters watching you find your groove, work out the kinks, and restart when necessary. Some days are easier than others, and your harder days are never a burden to the people who want to be there for you. To one of my dearest friends from home, I listened to Taylor Swift from your left AirPod for an hour...and then I listened to you list all your accomplishments and internship offers and checked-off goals from the semester with hardly any enthusiasm. Hearing you say it wasn't as fulfilling because being in a relationship hasn't been "checked off" was insane to me because if only you could hear how cool and talented and smart you are to me and everyone else. Until you find your someone, let me be your reminder. To my sister, it makes me so happy to see you figuring yourself out and creating your own space at Purdue. I don't like sharing a car...but ending up on the same campus? I wouldn't have it any other way, and I hope your time here is rock climbing at the Co Rec, photography opportunities at every corner, a more mature relationship with coffee, and sexy time with Harry (if he wakes up...). On your rougher nights and during your darker thoughts, I'm at Waldron whenever you need me. To the person I spent the entire summer getting to know only to get let down, I am just relieved you've found someone to share in the beauty of overcast days and the magic of music-making. Thank you for, inadvertently, teaching me a few things about what is (and is not) worth waiting around for. To the people in my life who feel a bit lonelier this time of year, I wish you could see yourselves the way I do. And I hope you realize that it (whatever it is) will find you in due time, so you might as well try to enjoy yourself (and I really mean yourself) until then. To anyone who feels adrift or unseen or unfulfilled, you have people who want to walk you home.


Life in college is rife with moments of triumph, papers submitted in the knick of time, pasta and movie nights, "running" into your crush on campus, laughing until it hurts, letting yourself be dragged on a night out, glimpses of a future with the people you've met and let get to know you and who have let you know them. But it is also moments alone; doubt about where you're headed and what you're meant for; comparison; homesickness; insecurity; wallets emptied on dirty chais...and Red Bull infusions; procrastinated papers biting you in the ass at 3:00am; the feeling that as well-intentioned as everyone is, no one quite understands you the way you want to be understood.

This yin yang of life does not have to be painstaking. You have people on your team. People who want to listen, who ask if they can take anything off your hands and mean it, who might not be able to be there for you in the way you want them to but will be there for you in every way they know how. What you're going through? Let others go through it with you. This is beginning to sound like Paulo Coelho, whoever wrote "You Are a Badass," and Oprah collaborated on a new book...but you get the point. Stop being a bitch and talk to the people whom it would kill to know you feel alone or unheard or misunderstood. Let them remind you that you are none of those things ever.

We have to look after one another. We have to make sure we all get to wherever we are going together. It is so incredibly easy to forget that all it takes is a smile in passing, a compliment on something small (or big), a paid-for drink from the person ahead in the Starbucks line, a door held open, a moment taken to just listen--to turn a day around, to sit a bit straighter, to pull back the curtains, to lighten someone's load. We forget how little it takes to mean so much. As finals season closes in upon us, as we enter the holiday season, as the days grow colder and the nights grow darker. Find someone. Walk them home.

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