Solo
The Solo cup, red or blue, is emblematic of the college experience, especially if you went to school at a place where the Greek system is alive and well. Where I attended, the Greek system was on steroids; not only was it the main social scene (i.e. keg parties, formal and informal dances, etc.), it provided something like 90% of the on-campus housing for students. It was locked-in. I lacked the confidence and self-awareness to free myself from it.
Don’t get me wrong, if you met me at 18, 19, or 20 my guess is that “lacking in confidence” is not how you would have described me. I was a good student, confident in my intelligence, and proud of the family from which I’d come. My parents were well -educated and regularly hosted dinner parties and other events, the guest lists not constrained by norms of age, race, sexuality, or vocation. My mother had been an outspoken proponent of desegregation as an elected school board member, even testifying before Congress. We had art in our home. I felt well-rounded and prepared. And yet, on that college campus—outside of class—I was not comfortable. I did not feel as if I fit in there. I felt awkward, on display; like I was trying to have a good time, blend in, stand out, be accepted, and hide all at the same time. Those feelings, plus a keg party or fully-stocked bar, well…………
The combination led to my fair share of embarrassing moments, poor choices, regrettable behavior, and painful consequences. Many involved too much alcohol; all resulted from lack of skills. What my upbringing hadn’t prepared me for and what no course content taught, was how to know myself, how to be OK not being like everyone else, how to not compare and not care, how to say “I’m not interested in that”, how to figure out conditions that personally energized, compelled, and recharged me, how to have emotional intelligence. Instead, I drank and stumbled my way through the discomfort, coming out mostly unscathed thanks to an odd mix of “my people” and a whole lot of luck.
Many years later, as I continued my education in “life school”, I learned that I am an introvert. As many do, I had confused introversion with shyness; I am not shy. What I came to understand is that introversion has to do with energy, its exchange and replenishment. I thrive in small groups, I have fewer but deeper and more meaningful relationships, and I recharge by being alone. When I understood this, I experienced a moment of clarity, a massive retrospective “a-ha”. I said to myself “no wonder I drank the way that I did in college”. I was an introvert trying to live an extrovert’s life.
Self-awareness changes everything. I now know that I would have been better served by a different kind of solo, not one that comes printed on the side of a cup!