A farewell from the EIC

Every two weeks for the past school year, I have written a letter from the editor. It’s never addressed to anyone but you, the reader, and you’ve been privy to quite a few of my many overly specific opinions and dramatized life stories. It’s incredibly strange to pick up my own copy of the paper every other week to find a publicized version of my diary on the back for all my peers and mentors to read. 

That’s not to say that it isn’t rewarding. “Catharsis”, which just so happens to be my favorite word in the English language, is the perfect descriptor of a writer’s experience. While I love reporting the controversial happenings on campus, writing an open letter to the Wofford community biweekly has been an emotional journey. 

When I began my position as editor-in-chief during the summer of 2020, I was completely terrified. Not only did I feel unqualified to lead (even though I held the managing editor position for a year prior) I was also dealing with undiagnosed mental illness that I refused to address. Only with the support of my friends was I able to face the reality that I needed some help. 

Even though I wanted a quick fix for my anxiety, my disordered eating, my fears and my compulsions, I learned that the only way to move forward is to work slowly but steadily in order to understand myself and mental illness. 

While writing this letter, I look back on my past pieces and I am reminded of how often my progress, and sometimes my deteriorations, bled into my work. Nostalgia, friendship, sadness, and advocacy are common themes in these letters. Not to mention the fact that some of my pieces are shorter and less complex — rereading these reminds me of the times when even typing was a chore. 

But by writing about my longing for Christmastime and my frustration with Wofford’s acceptance of certain donors, it gave me a cathartic exercise that I used to cope with my own problems. Sadly, (or maybe, happily, if you agreed with my own satirical letter from the editor published in the Old Black & Blue highlighting how annoying my letters can be) this is the last piece I will ever publish in the school newspaper. 

With graduation fast approaching, life for myself and the rest of the class of 2021 is about to change forever. Even for those students pursuing another degree, there won’t ever be a time when we live in a community of our peers again — that is, unless you count a nursing home. 

Broken routines, new opportunities and adventures in independence. All of which this year’s grads will get to experience in a few short weeks. Some catharsis seems like it will be well needed. Writing public letters isn’t for everyone, but finding ways to purge yourself of the stacks and piles of emotion we feel can make all the difference. 

I want to conclude my final letter by thanking every single staff member, advisor and volunteer for the newspaper this year for their hard work, dedication and love for student journalism. Without them, there would be no newspaper: no comics, no website, no photos, no funding, no advertisements, no stories. 

And I especially want to thank you, the student body, for supporting the Old Gold & Black by picking up the paper. It’s been the most worthwhile job I have ever had, and I am grateful for the year full of opportunities and growth. It has been the highest honor to be traditionally untraditional with each of you.