The typical storyline of a mid-college crisis finds a traditional student fulfilling basic core requirements and struggling to decide on a major, a purpose, in their junior year. Some consider leaving school.

For me, a 25-year-old Ann Arbor transfer student, I was just getting sick of this place.

My major, journalism, has been determined since I first began classes at Washtenaw Community College about five years ago. Not once have I questioned what I want to do with my life since starting college.

Before school, when I was lost in the routine of ringing cash registers, aggravated patrons and meager minimum-wage paydays, I never once questioned my purpose.

It was simple: I didn't have one.

When I came to Central Michigan University to complete my bachelor's degree, it seemed nothing would stand in my way of grabbing a good job and for once, enjoying what I do every day. Through writing, learning and sharing lessons with my peers, I found a reason to try harder to succeed at things I actually enjoyed.

The first year was wonderful. I slowly but surely fit in with my much younger peers, and continued to build upon successes I had at community college. I returned from summer break eager to continue to expand my knowledge and impress those peers with my increasing skill set.

Right away, I began to struggle.

Sitting in classes filled with students younger than my little brother, I struggled to believe this was actually where I belonged. I was demoralized by the people around me. I was unable to fully realize my potential around classmates and lessons I suddenly could not relate with.

I worked so hard to cultivate a comfortable setting for myself, both socially and physically. An ill-fated year living in residence halls, cheek-to-cheek with teenagers parched for beer, had given way to my own comfortable apartment and a cast of friends just old enough to make sense.

The three months that mark summer break were an escape I needed for my career, but not one that was necessarily conducive to my continued academic success.

Over the summer, I worked hard at an internship, in the field of my dreams, writing constantly every day. When I returned to the slower, more deliberate pace of college, it seemed irrelevant.

Grades suffered, friendships got awkward. I began to wonder if I should have come here in the first place.

I decided to make a choice.

I could choose this town and its proud university to usher me into the adult I always hoped to be.

I could choose to return to my life of stacking cardboard boxes in the bowels of grocery stores, never having to wonder what I could achieve with effort.

I chose to stay here.

Although I struggled halfway through my time at CMU – and am still struggling to motivate after the mediocre freedom of minimum wage – I know I must go on.

I must prove that I am literate, intelligent and meant for something more relevant than a pimply cashier to the people around me.

I have support from my peers and my teachers, and I know with just a final rallying cry, I can get through this mountain of homework and classes to attend.

In the midst of my own mid-college crisis, I ask that others struggling with purpose and thinking of giving up simply bow their heads and trudge on.

We can get though this. We're almost there.