New semester, new me.

September is that month.

That month when summer ends. That month when the weather is stupid hot. That month when you gotta stop partying. It’s that month when classes start again and every college student is reminded that graduating is still all that matters.

September is the epitome of your mom telling you to get your shit together and to get focused again.

So if you don’t have a person to tell you that, September got you!

--

I started classes about three weeks ago. This time, it wasn’t in North Dakota.

Immediately after the semester ended in the spring, I came home and decided that North Dakota wasn’t the place for me. The campus wasn’t for me, my peers weren’t for me, the weather wasn’t for me, the -- everything North Dakota just wasn’t for me.

I missed Minnesota. I missed being in the city. I missed taking the train. I missed my friends. I missed the opportunities I previously had in journalism. I missed the upbeat version of myself, and I didn’t want to continue to lose her in that little town of Fargo surrounded by white people and no trees.

Being a black girl on a predominantly white campus was a feeling I never got used to or ever wanted to get used to.

So, I enrolled at Metro.

Metropolitan State University is a public university with campuses in Minneapolis and Saint Paul. Here in the Twin Cities, Metro is known to be a sister school of Saint Paul College, a two-year public institution in town.

It felt liberating to know that, as an adult, I could make any decision I wanted, including moving back home. But before I could even think about enrolling at a new school, I needed to consider everything else.

For me, it wasn’t as simple as picking a new school and then boom -- new school, new me. It was like: how am I going to afford this? And how am I going to support myself after this move?

That was the hardest part to figure out.

I stayed at a mentor’s house all summer rent-free and everything was gravy. I was going out, I was enjoying my friends, I was working my internship — you know, everything 21 year-olds having a Minnesota summer do. But by mid-July, I was in my first crisis.

I had a month and a half until I had to move out my mentor’s house, finish the required paperwork for transferring schools, find a new job, and find somewhere to live. (And save, and finish the internship on a good note, and buy furniture, and plan out my life for the next six months).

I started living my life through the lens of those to-do’s. They weren’t things I could just cross off everyday. They took dedication and will power.

At the end of the day, my move home wasn’t going to be worth it if I didn’t complete those goals.

I spent the rest of July freaking out everyday. I was the most uncertain I’ve ever been in my whole life. My stability was at risk, my long term goals were at risk, and even my education was at risk.

You read that right.

I fell so deep down the “this is it for me” rabbit hole, that I convinced myself school just wasn’t for me either. I think many people who drop out must feel like this: unguided, lack thereof, just simply not being able to do it because “life gets in the way.” The crazy part was, for whatever reason, I convinced myself to rule out the very thing that’s going to help me in life -- school.

I didn’t see how I could support myself and go to school at the same time. How much do I value my education now? That questioned ate my mind up! Is it worth it? All this stress, being broke -- is it really worth it?

My vision of myself on graduation day was gone. The conversations I pictured myself having with future friends and children about my degree -- gone. The feeling of achievement, the societal approval -- all gone. I’m already in over $10,000 of student debt. To me, my financial stability was way more important than going to class.

It seemed like there were two paths: either get out now while you can and work a regular job like everyone else, or stick this school thing out even if you don’t know what’s going to happen next.

So there I was, dreading each morning going to my internship knowing that I was a day closer to being on my own.

Then came Craigslist.

My biggest fear was homelessness. Yeah, I had mentors who said they would never let that happen to me, but they’re just mentors. In my mind, you can’t even trust your own family to prevent that from happening. I couldn’t depend on my mentors in that way. This was my responsibility -- my problem that I had to solve.

Craigslist seemed like a never-ending list of unaffordable apartments and scams. I was fixed on the idea of finding a place of my own -- I had such a bad experience with my roommates in North Dakota, and I didn’t want to live with people anymore. I drained myself for hours a day checking for studios. I would change the filter to under $500, then play with numbers up to $880. I would find spots in Minneapolis, and then try to plan my bus routes from there to school. I even went to some showings, and actually almost fell for a scam (Someone tried to get me to send a deposit electronically, scam alert!). None of this was getting me anywhere.

July was dreadful.

I started listening to Sade even though love had nothing to do with this. It was the longing and sad tone of voice she used. It was like I was going through a bad break up pre-adulting and entering a world of actual adulting.

--

Then, August came and I found a place to stay.

Okay... it didn’t come that easy but kind of.

You know when you’re a teenager and you meet other people your age outside of school that you really click with through a program? Then the program ends, and you don’t talk to them as much because you’re from different areas and go to different schools?

Well, a person I met when we were both teenagers called me in July when I was in Erianna-crisis-mode. She mentioned that a roommate was moving out and they needed someone to move in. So crisis-mode-Erianna is very pessimistic and doubtful, and that opportunity goes in one ear and out the other (I know, dumb).

And I thought, it’s still the beginning of August, so technically there’s still time for me to find a place of my own.

--

It was the morning, I’m at my internship, and I start having a conversation about a pitch I was working on with my co-worker. Like conversations do, it changed, and the next thing I know, I’m hopelessly talking to them about what had been going on with me.

My co-worker goes, “Erianna. You just gotta do what you gotta do right now. If that means room share, okay then. That’s what you gotta do at this point in your life. You can’t make unnecessary sacrifices right now.”

He could hear that I was making an unnecessary sacrifice by thinking that dropping out of school just to afford my own place was going to solve my uncertainty.

I went to the bathroom to cry.

In the stall, I realized I didn’t want to fight the universe anymore. I was trying to have things my way and it wasn’t working.

--

I called my old friend back who was looking for roommates. That same day, I went to go see the house, and then boom -- Ya girl found an affordable place to stay!

The place was perfect.

It’s a huge house with five bedrooms, two baths, and the best part, an attic all to myself. Now when I say attic, I don’t mean cobwebs, floor boards, and a candle light. I mean, an attic style upstairs with a living room and a bedroom painted a soft pink with two walk-in closets. Essentially a mini apartment without the bathroom and kitchen (I go downstairs for that). My roommates are a group of females all around my age that are either in college or just normal human beings with lives. Sharing a house with them had good vibes written all over it.

And then the rest fell into place.

To be honest with you, I had to save my money. I probably didn’t save as much as I should have but I had to turn my money awareness all the way up. Everytime I thought about going out for lunch or buying a new fit, it was like, “No, Eri You don’t need it.” Everyday it was like I was saying no to drugs-- to things that weren’t worth spending money on.

Like I said, I could’ve done better but this was my first time coming up with this kind of money. A deposit and first month’s rent was not something I did before but working 40 hours a week for $15 an hour made the goal do-able. I made sure I worked my full 40 hours every week. I needed over $1,000 for for this move and I wasn’t going to let Afro Deli in the skyway at work mess that up for me.

My internship ended, I moved into my new place, and now, as of a four weeks ago I have started classes at my new school.

I actually did it. I didn’t know when I came home in May that this was what my summer was going to be like. I didn’t know that it was going to be a lot harder than just transferring schools.

I grew up a lot this summer. I don’t think about money the same way, I don’t think about making decisions in the same way. And I don’t think about life the same way.

I get it now.

Eating out really isn’t worth it all the time and eating boxed macaroni for dinner tonight is just fine. Being honest with myself about what I need academically and leaving Fargo was worth the risk. And ultimately, I don't always have control over big moves like this but keeping in mind that when I want something, it takes more than just wanting it. It’s a process. Everything is a process.

This is a new semester and a new version of me.

September is that month.

--

E