This is my last article for this column. I’m graduating from William Jewell College in less than two weeks, and from there I’ll be moving on to my studies at seminary.

My undergraduate graduation feels very different than my high school one. Hardly any of my high school friends and I frequently talk, and I’ve invited almost none of them. People have entered and exited my time as an undergraduate, and we have all undergone growth during this time. Furthermore, graduating high school was a joyous occasion – I was no longer subject to my school’s setting, or my school’s morality issues. Jewell doesn’t just feel like an escape – there’s plenty I’ll miss about my time here.

Seeing as it’s been so different, I’ve been paying close attention to myself and what I’ve needed. Here’s how I’ve been managing the graduation feelings this time around:

1. Restricting my social media usage

For me, most of my social media accounts are connected to friends from high school. I’ve been seeing other people’s graduation photos and cliché captions – and there remains a few significant people from that time who I am no longer connected with at all.

I don’t really like seeing other people’s graduation pictures right now. As selfish as it sounds, I want to focus on myself. Avoiding social media has allowed me to focus on my own feelings, my own journey and the loved ones in my life that are by my side –  metaphorically and literally.

2 . Taking time to simply enjoy being on the hill

This year has been hard on a lot of us. For me, this year has been filled with Oxford homesickness, friend homesickness and an eagerness for the future. As much as I’ve been present with myself, there have been many moments where I’ve been paused in mourning. Mourning for my time in another country, mourning for people that are no longer part of my life. As much as this is necessary, I’ve been taking the time to be on campus, admiring and getting ready for leaving. Naturally, this includes taking the time to be with my favorite trees on the hill.

3. Celebrating the growth and challenges of the last four years

Now that the worst tests of my semester – comprehensive exams – are officially finished, I’ve also been using my free time to celebrate. My undergraduate years have been filled with challenges anticipated and unanticipated. For all the bad that has happened, I have learned how to begin emotionally taking care of myself. My family is happy, my friends are doing well and taking care of themselves – there is much I have to be thankful for.

4. Packing and cleaning

As much as this is a necessity that is unrestricted to the end of the semester, packing my things and readying my dorm room for my departure has slowly begun. It is something I can take time to go through my things and mindfully, physically, take stock. It has been deeply cathartic to send my textbooks from the past years – necessary for my exams – home. As it is the last time I’ll be exiting for the summer, I’m being a little more attentive to my things, whether it’s my collection of mugs, my books or my decorations. This extends to my Jewell email, which desperately needs to be re-cleaned since the last purge of unimportant emails months ago.

These four things have been very helpful in guiding me from exam mindsets to saying goodbye to my time here. I’ve cherished the moments that have led to me being here, sitting in my room, writing this article. I can’t wait to see what the future holds.

I’ve written an angry version of this article, months ago. I’ve thought a lot about this ongoing conversation I’ve involved myself in between my queerness and my religion. I’ve been angry, I’ve been jubilant with justice, I’ve been anxious. I’ve engaged with so many made-up bigoted people in my head that I’m worn out.

There is a place for anger. There is a place for hurt. I’ve found my footing in those, but I think it’s time I let myself experience and express the love I have for this space.

I began the search for a good seminary with nothing but the gut feeling that I’d end up there – at a seminary.

Four years ago, I tossed aside any hope for intellect with religion. It wasn’t in my churches. It wasn’t at my Christian school. It wasn’t anywhere I felt free to be and explore myself.

I’ve always felt disfigured, in one form or fashion. First, it was the scoliosis, then it was the anxiety and paranoia. Then, it was the queerness – what Jewell’s environment didn’t mind was a wrecking ball for almost every other aspect of my life.

I learned I was disfigured personally as well as physically. Something gross. A queer. A disappointment. A hard, chalky pill to swallow. Someone who needed to tone themselves down, make sure they were tolerable for others.

I know there has been some healing for me with religion, in the background of my growth these past few years. I know this will likely continue, just as I’m sure there are more scars I’ll collect.

But what surprised me about that moment, a year and a half ago, was that I was near-certain, almost immediately. There wasn’t doubt. I’d find a seminary, and I’d go there. That was it.

I didn’t tell anyone, save a few friends. It felt like a precious new part of my life, a secret thing growing inside me. I knew where I wanted to go after I graduated, and I knew that I would be undertaking a daunting personal task: wrestling with a text that I consider just a text. Fixating on ideas and concepts of a deity. Solving, even if only for myself, what it means to believe in a God, how I can best respect the earth I share with others, and how I can best fight bigotry – especially bigotry the Christian Church itself enacts and encourages.

Every moment since I knew I’d go to seminary has held a quiet, beautiful anticipation. At first, I was so giddy, drunk on the delight and anticipation that I worried I’d lose my ability to be mindful of the present.  

The joy slept, dormant, waking every few weeks to leave me randomly ecstatic.

So much of this experience has been joyful. The first seminary I researched happened to be the one I visited, applied to, got accepted into and am attending in the fall.

I had no idea how to break this to my family, during the months that led up to my subsequent seminary visit.

Anyone who knows me knows I’m prone to extremes, and leaving my Christian high school left no doubt in their minds that I’d never trust a religious institution with my personal or intellectual growth.

I didn’t know how to tell them that I just knew. That there was a logic to it, but what attracted me more than the logic was the gut feeling. There has never been a deep doubt in my mind about this decision.

Everything about the process of applying, interviewing, visiting and waiting calmed me.

I’m going to continue celebrating my personal healing and the next portion of my life.

I hope that everyone can find healing, whether that does or does not involve any religion for you. I hope that, above all else, all of my fellow students find a future for themselves that gives them hope and happiness.