For me, going to college after high school was a no-brainer. It almost didn’t feel like a choice. Now, that’s not to say that I regret it or that any choice is better than another. Each person is different and must make decisions for themselves. But, personally, I have always been college-bound.

As with any person that’s growing and changing, I was constantly in flux, deciding what to do with my life. I was so focused on finding where I should be that I was terrified of making any wrong decisions. Big choices, such as which college to go to, were made viscerally (which happened to work out for me, but I wouldn’t recommend it). There was a fatal flaw in my rational thinking, and that was fear.

Whenever I was faced with a life-changing decision, I was so crippled by anxiety that I would make snap decisions just to be rid of the pressure. Thus, seventeen-year-old me googled colleges in California, found one with a music program, applied, got in, and packed my bags. Also, being an extraordinarily stubborn person meant that no one could change my mind once it was set. It ended up that I was at a great school with a pretty wonderful music program, but the fact remains that I didn’t do nearly enough research for myself before arriving.

I went in as a freshman with the intent of majoring in music performance. Being on campus for about 5 minutes quickly brought me to the realization that I was not quite the big shot I thought I was (we can all cringe at our past selves, right?). My first year of voice lessons was less than stellar. My instructor and I hardly ever saw eye to eye, and it was hard for me to accept that everything I believed to sound good was completely wrong.

When she asked toward the end of the semester what I wanted my emphasis to be, I answered, “Performance.” She looked at me slightly confused and asked, “You know that means you have to audition, right?” Now, to anyone in the field, that should be common sense; but, when you make decisions without doing any research, as I obviously do, you’re constantly blindsided. Trying to be helpful, I suppose, my instructor warned me that most people do not qualify the first time that they audition. To say the least, I was pretty intimidated; I wasn’t taking criticism so great up to that point. (I later found out that her statement wasn’t even close to being true, but I now realize that I, personally, didn’t have the chops to qualify then. I assume she was just trying to preserve my feelings.) So, out of fear, I made the decision to put off deciding what my emphasis might be.

The next year, my advisor was breathing down my neck since I still didn’t have an emphasis, and I would have to start taking classes specifically for it. I began to think very seriously about film scoring because it combines two of my favorite things: music and movies. I decided to speak with the head of the composition department to ask his advice. When he asked if I could show him something I’d written, I muttered, slightly baffled, that I didn’t have anything. My thought was that I was there to learn, not to prove myself. He suggested that I major in something that looks good on a resume (i.e. Music Education) and that I could take composition lessons on the side to get the experience. I left a little disheartened, but I was grateful for the advice.

For those keeping score, that was the second degree that I was talked out of.

Taking my professor’s advice, I declared Education as my emphasis. Being such a broad topic, I knew that I would learn the most there; however, that also meant that I never had the time (or funds) for those composition lessons.

I never actually had any real interest in teaching. The frustration alone from having to constantly answer “no” to the question “So you wanna be a teacher?” is enough for me to want to go back in time, slap my 19-year-old self, and have the courage to go for a degree I might actually be inclined to use someday. It saddens me to think of how much time I have now dedicated to a subject matter that I care so little about and how miserable I was in every one of those classes (not to mention the painstaking hours, ranging from 15 to 30, depending on the class, of outside observations and teaching that was required). I have been told several times that I would make a great teacher, and while I agree that I would be well suited for the job, the job just isn’t well suited for me.

If I were to give advice based on my experience, it would be this:

1) Do your research! If you have an inclination, find out what you can about the subject and make an informed decision.

2) Have the courage to do what you think is right. It may not always work out, but it’s so much worse having to live your life never knowing (sorry that it sounds cliche, but it is indeed true).

3) Don’t assume that every decision you make will determine the rest of your life. You have so much time to change your mind, and you definitely will. Give yourself the freedom to grow and change.

Take a deep breath. It’ll all work out.