The world used to feel so much smaller. Colder, scarier and full of so many expectations. Writing this now, I feel like I am in outer space.
For those who don’t know, I am not in the lovely Ocean State right now; I am in a treatment center typing on a janky Dell desktop with gummy keys and a really warped screen. Still, I am writing.
My previously perfectionist, high-achieving and pessimistic self never would have thought that I would trust my amazing staff at The Good Five Cent Cigar to finish off my reign in my absence. It took a huge jump to believe that there are so many forms of education. While my peers are turning textbook pages, I am learning skills to improve my mental health and succeed in the future.
But let’s start at the beginning: when I walked through the doors of Rodman Hall and, going on day three of my psychology B.A., changed my course of study to journalism and professional and public writing. I would remake that decision in every lifetime.
In high school, I was that kid who sat in the back of class, edited their classmates’ work for free and never raised their hand. Poetry and reading were the golden pillars of my childhood and kept me upright for years to come. I cherish the ability to create worlds – real or fake – with the flick of a pen or the scratch of graphite. We are all such incredible beings with beautiful stories, and all we need is the courage to wrestle with a blank page.
Throughout my time at the University of Rhode Island, I accepted every opportunity I got to challenge myself. From giving tours of Ranger Hall, to mentoring first-years within the College of Arts and Sciences to representing the Harrington School of Communication and Media at a tailgate, it was safe to say that I had faced my fears of human interaction.
And then came the interviews. I started reporting for the Cigar in my first week at URI, where I took a story with my two news editors at the time and wrote the worst town meeting recap in the history of Google Docs. I had never written for a newspaper before, but I loved the idea of translating others’ experiences into something comprehensible. As I wrote more and moved up to staff reporter, news editor and finally editor-in-chief, my ability to transcribe meaning and find story ideas improved. Now I can’t look out my window without thinking of pitch ideas or possible angles of a potential story.
I grew up in Room 125 of the Memorial Union: I came in freshman year with matty dark blonde hair, a weird affinity for my mom’s worn white Air Force 1s, an unresolved battle with my sexuality and the belief that my work would never make a difference. My time at this paper has cemented the new belief that I am actively making an imprint on the world with each staggered breath.
Being away from my brilliant Cigar team, at a time we typically do “Secret Santa,” feels bittersweet. I started working with Maia Hembruff when the room chose us to be co-news editors, and it feels like our collaboration was meant to be. We are two strong personalities who came into our roles in the news section and as managing editor and editor-in-chief with extensive lists of ideas that would later come true. Of course, I enjoyed being a reporter as an underclassman, but being able to mold the Cigar into our dream as a partnership is something I will never forget. There are so many moments that I took a step back and thought, “I don’t know where I would be without Maia.” The rest of my Cigar team, past and present, is full of irreplaceable souls and memories I will hold so close to my heart.
Now that my world is growing and I am up in the stratosphere, I am beginning to realize that the Cigar has helped me through the roughest period of my life. I learned leadership skills, but I also learned what it means to be in the present moment and how to respect myself like I respect my peers. I learned how to sit back and watch the next chapter of my life unfold and trust that I am heading in the right direction.
