FROM THE EDITOR

In my final semester of college, the air is permeated by conversations about the end. The undergraduate experience is coming to a close for many of us, and with it, the end of scholastic ritual.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve thrived when it’s come to school. As a kid, I found comfort in the classroom. The smell of Ticonderoga erasers kept me grounded. Reading, writing and learning as much as I could about everything was what I loved most in the world.

Before I knew it, that love turned into infatuation.

I started to understand that doing well in school was overwhelmingly important to adults around me. The prospect of a big red A+ on an assignment was enough to motivate me to study for hours, because I knew I would receive academic validation. I had always done well in school by default, but when I took note of people’s reactions to my performance, I developed an innate feeling that my grades were directly attached to my self worth.

Prior to college, attributing my grades to my self worth worked for me. I was able to push myself at the expense of my own wellbeing.

During March of my sophomore year, my mom drove through a snow quarry to come get me from my dorm on campus.

I didn’t return for the rest of the semester.

HALLI SMITH ASSISTANT OPINION EDITOR

I was diagnosed with severe clinical depression. I couldn’t leave my bed. I had trouble eating, sleeping and showering. I felt my chest cave in. If I had an invisible illness that rendered me immobile somedays, how could I convey that to my professors? How could I live up to the imaginary high standards I had always set for myself academically?

The short answer?

I couldn’t.

Two years later, my depression still affects me greatly. The only difference between my sophomore year and my senior year in terms of my depression is how I now choose to approach conversations about mental health.

I don’t hide my mental illness anymore. When I got diagnosed, I felt like the only person on the planet that had experienced the grim symptoms of depression. But the more I expressed my feelings, the more receptive people were. I started to understand that my struggle, while uniquely my own, was also something I didn’t have to conceal.

I try to live openly in most capacities of my life. I believe that while Instagram infographics about mental health and ways to cope can be helpful, they’re merely a resource. The moments where I’ve felt the most supported are the moments where I express my feelings, openly and frequently.

If all the world’s a stage and life is the performance, none of it is rehearsed. The most invigorating and colorful performances aren’t calculated, they’re honest and real.

Thank you for reading!

Ihad gotten my very first laptop my sophomore year of high school. Ever since then, it has stayed within my grasp. Many late nights and early mornings have been spent scrolling, typing and clicking, racing to finish an assignment. From high school to college, my laptop has accumulated tons of documents from my years of education.

PDF, Word, Excel and Powerpoint files dominate my desktop. I have made one attempt to control the amount of documents I have collected over the years; it was not as successful as I had hoped — notifications appear on the top right corner of my screen indicating storage is nearly full.

Google Drive storage can do the trick. Obstacle averted.

I have deadlines I need to meet, articles to type, discussions to write, essays to finish, and critiques to expand on.

Type, type, type

I have been engulfed in academic and professional deadlines, so much so, my “a” has begun to stop working.

My “a’’ button chooses to give up, when I am on a writing streak, rushing to meet a story deadline, or when I simply want to login into my laptop.

I have learned to work around it and most times I am successful, but at times it doesn’t work out.

In my stressed and frustrated state, caused by putting in numerous hours toward assignments and stories, this is a gift.

I have logged countless hours on my laptop — the files recording my journey.

Each file containing a thought or idea I had chosen to execute.

A trip down memory lane occurs as I scroll through my files. One can see the progression in my writing and research.

Reminiscing about the times a particular assignment or class made me think it was the end of the world.

Only to think about how strong those times made me. It made me strong in my writing, my wisdom and my ability to enjoy the highs that come after a tough class or story.

Thank you for reading!

Counting down the days until commencement also means counting down the days left in the mountain town I have come to love. Since the start of my senior year, I keep counting my lasts in Flagstaff — the last time the aspens will be yellow, the last homecoming carnival, the last tequila sunrise, the last time the pinecone will drop more things that I will miss come and go too quickly.

I have become so nostalgic for this place I have been lucky to call home for the past four years. Watching the sunrise on the peaks as I walk to work in the morning, downtown farmers markets, getting stuck waiting for a train downtown, the wind nearly pushing me over as I walk and snow coming up to my knees.

The small things in Flagstaff give me comfort even in their annoyance. I am scared of what will come in the future without these constants. I fear the change to come yet I am excited for the future.

Moving from Oregon to Arizona almost four years ago was in short — terrifying. I was leaving the city that I had called home for 18 years and moving to a state where I didn’t really know anybody.

Seeing all of my friends back home go to local universities and still have their friends they knew from high school seemed to fall into life in college seamlessly. I was feeling I had made the wrong choice and was starting to feel nostalgic for the life and the friends I had before I moved.

LYDIA NELSON DIRECTOR OF DIGITAL CONTENT

Little did I know this time in Flagstaff has let me grow into a person I didn’t know I was. Sticking out the change pushed me to try new things, say yes more and step out of my comfort zone.

As I am getting ready to graduate from NAU and eventually move out of Flagstaff, I am starting to feel the same as I did when I was leaving my hometown. I am sad and scared to let it go but I am so excited for what I will do.

Changes like these will keep happening. I will move, I will grow, I will make new friends, I will get new jobs, I will find new people, I will find out more about myself. All these things will happen as long as I let them. Change will always scare me but the future will always seem more exciting.

Thank you for reading!

Can I paint a picture for you?

I sat down to write this brief piece of wisdom for the readers of The Lumberjack , confident it would be passed down through generations and hailed as a prime example of addressing the masses. The humble writings of an Arizona college senior will surely be considered almost holy by scholars and leaders alike someday, I thought.

Suddenly, I felt violently shaken. What is there to write about? Who am I to be the one to write it? What do I even know? What the hell am I doing with my life?

Apparently, not much.

Impostor’s Syndrome in my last year of college is a very real issue. Nobody prepared me for this final semester; all of the sudden, I’m looking for jobs and making plans to move. Unfortunately, I still feel like I’m 17 years old.

I don’t fully understand how taxes work. I cannot meal plan to save my life. I really enjoy playing games in my free time, and my storage is almost always full on my iPhone. I do not feel like an adult.

EMILY REHLING OPINION EDITOR

Thankfully, I know I am not alone in this feeling. Every other graduating senior I’ve spoken to about it is equally afraid, and my peers are some of the most capable, talented people I know. Their work is outstanding, and I feel like I’m talking to seasoned professionals when I work with them. None of them are going to struggle in the real world, I’m sure of it — so why would I?

There’s an undeniable pressure on graduating college seniors. It’s like the entire weight of the world is falling on your shoulders. But I’ve processed far too many emotions in these past few years — I know I’m a stronger, smarter and more thoughtful person than I was when I arrived in Flagstaff in 2019. Whatever the future holds, I know I’m prepared for it.

Thank you for reading!