I hate change.

Routines are my comfort zone. When they’re upended, and I’m thrust out of the confined box I’ve created for myself, I automatically feel a sense of dread and anxiety rush over me.

And yet, some of the most pivotal moments I’ve had in college have come when I have ventured outside of these rigid structures. When I’ve been, well, uncomfortable.

Most of my first year at school was spent developing routines for a new chapter in my life. But that quickly changed when in my second year I headed to Washington D.C. Winter Quarter for Medill on the Hill, a program I dreamt about participating in when I first applied to Northwestern. Despite that, as the days neared for the time to finally go, I was a mess.

I panicked. What in the world was I doing? Why was I taking a leap to abandon everything I built in Evanston to do something where I barely knew anyone else? Sure, this would be good for my career, but what about all that I would miss at school? 

The only solace I could find was that being from Philadelphia, if all went poorly I could escape a few weekends by train and find temporary comfort in the familiarity of home.

But as 10 weeks in the nation’s capital passed, I ended up laughing at the ridiculous dread that I felt at the start of the program.

I developed close relationships with many who participated, extending my social life for the first time in college beyond my close-knit support group. I learned how to live alone for the first time, teaching myself how to properly meal prep and gaining confidence in doing activities on my own. And I most importantly, I learned now to be not afraid of what I deem “uncomfortable.”

That defiance of discomfort I carried with me for the rest of my time at NU.

It made me choose a journalism residency that would force me every day to talk to people on the street, despite the fact I knew I would be apprehensive (like all journalists are). That defiance pushed me to meet people who could help me improve my Spanish when I studied abroad, even though it would have been easier to just hang out with other Americans. It even exists on a smaller scale, like when I go to a birthday party with two people I barely know, or have deep conversations about Christianity while driving in Michigan for a class trip. 

Feelings of discomfort and awkwardness haven’t totally disappeared. But now, I choose to overcome them, knowing that what awaits on the other side can be strong sources of growth, reform or just plain fun. 

So rather than running away from discomfort, chase it.