In the second episode of HBO’s “Band of Brothers,” two U.S. paratroopers convene in the dark woods of northern France on June 6, 1944. From different units in the wrong drop zone, all they wanted to do amid Armageddon was find their units.

“I think we’re lost, sir,” Private Hall says to Lieutenant Winters. The officer replies, “We’re not lost, Private. We’re in Normandy.”

That, I think, captures how I’ve been feeling recently — about life-turned-unrecognizable, finishing college and this phase of my life, while trying in earnest to map out what the hell comes next. I sit here, in my childhood bedroom taking online classes while applying for jobs that might not exist tomorrow, all while trying to rationalize that in the last six weeks the world as I know it went on hold. I’m here, somewhere in space and time, totally unfamiliar. I’m unsure where to go.

But I’ve felt this way before.

It’s March 2018. I’m a sophomore. I’m sports editor at The D.O. and I’m not even 20 yet. I’m also on the brink of academic suspension from Syracuse for a year. My depression and anxiety peaked in ways they never have before — I got stress hives. Eventually, I got notice I was suspended.

On a Tuesday I sat at my desk in my South Campus apartment, weeping to my parents. That Friday, I was sitting across from my dad at Zingerman’s in Ann Arbor, Michigan, on our way home from the airport. I felt like a failure.

I was lost.

As we finished our sandwiches in the relatively empty upstairs dining room, we talked. What we talked about stays with me and my dad. Suffice to say, though, it grounded me and helped me recognize that even though I was beyond what I thought was rock bottom, life will keep going no matter what I do or don’t do. I have all the support in the world, but it was incumbent on me to fix my problems.

Fortunately, a path presented itself to me. I appealed my suspension via letter and won — it was a hell of a letter. I was coming back to school for my junior year, but I had a thin line to walk. I needed to do well in school to prove to SU that I was capable, that my sophomore year was a blip, not a regression to the mean. I needed to prove that to myself too.

I started covering football for The D.O. my junior year, Syracuse’s magical 10-3 season, highlighted by a bowl trip and a W-I-L-D day at Clemson in October 2018. I discovered what my dream job was.

I fell in love and still am — hi, Emma!

I learned not to be so hard-headed and that dealing properly with my anxiety and depression were not just things that made me feel better, but made it possible to live the life I wanted.

That day in March 2018, on the phone with my parents, is the lowest I’ve ever been. I hope it stays that way. From that day, I spent two years climbing out of my self-created hole. And this March, as my 22nd birthday approached, I truly felt I was finally back in control of my kingdom. That maybe, just maybe, life would work out.

But at home for spring break, I found myself crying into Emma’s shoulder. She knows the story I just told you. And that day, as I wept again, it felt, and still feels, like the last two years of finding myself and my way were now for nothing.

I managed to get my degree, but for what? I learned what my dream job is and from where I sit today, I struggle to see how it will materialize.

Now? I don’t know. I’m incredibly fortunate. But I sit here and I can’t seem to escape my own shroud of pointlessness. It truly feels like my life to this point has been for… I don’t know.

I’m lost.

But I’ve managed to find my way once before. Who’s to say I won’t do it again?

Andrew Graham was a senior staff writer for The Daily Orange where his column will no longer appear. He can be reached at aegraham@syr.edu and on Twitter @A_E_Graham.

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Published on April 26, 2020 at 12:00 am