I was shitting myself.

Every spare moment was spent:

• 📚 Poring over every book on real estate development and finance that I could get my hands on.

• ✍️ Scrutinizing dozens of academic case studies.

• 😵‍💫 Making flashcards for terms I was unfamiliar with, building proformas for fun, and analyzing every project of my career.

Why?

Because I had just sold my dream house to pay for an executive real estate program at Harvard.

And my imposter syndrome was bigger than a Kardashian caboose. 

It was a weird time in my life

Two years earlier, I had done the thing you’re supposed to do at a certain age — move to the suburbs to start a family.

I ticked off the first part. ✅

My husband and I left New York City and moved to a little Washington D.C. suburb. His career required him to be in D.C., so we decided it was time to grow up and buy a proper house.

My work still brought me to NYC quite often, so we held on to our apartment for a little while, and I eventually nabbed a sublet in Queens to use when work called me to the city.

But I was excited to make a real home in the suburbs.

• 🏡 The house was charming. 

• 🌳 The neighborhood was idyllic. 

• 🐰 Singing woodland creatures frolicked into my bedroom every morning to serve me breakfast (ok, maybe not, but life was pretty damn close to perfect).

There was just one problem—

I was miserable. 😞 

I needed some friends

It was really hard for me to… fit in.

And I quickly realized that I really didn’t really want to fit in — at least not with the majority of the people I was meeting.

🔺 Almost every gesture of inclusion from a friendly female turned out to be a thinly-veiled attempt to recruit me into whatever pyramid scheme was most fashionable that week.

🍼 When he learned that I didn’t have children, one callous neighbor remarked, “Well you better get started soon, or it might come out retarded.” 😣

👭 And upon accepting an invitation to a neighborhood ladies night (after ensuring no one would try sell me ugly leggings), I was shocked to witness a group of wives and mothers behave like rowdy, childish, gossip girls.

I got locked into a (naughty and immature) party game that night which thwarted my Irish exit, and trapped me there for hours.

I eventually made it home to my exuberant husband who thought I had finally found a friend group, given how late I was out — but the look on my face said it all.

This was not an easy time in our marriage.

I felt isolated and pessimistic about the future.

He felt lied to. 

My husband had executed everything according to our agreed-upon plan. He had held up his end of the deal. 

But I was unhappy at home, and spent as much time as I could back in New York.

When we finally shed our egos and opened up about how we were feeling, everything became clear.

1. Neither of us were excited by the idea of having kids. Planning for that kind of future left us feeling trapped and resentful.

2. There was no reason to stay in a place where we were surrounded by people who made us feel like shit.

So we started having discussions about what our life might look like if we stopped planning for kids, and moved back to the city.

Then something impossible happened — I got into Harvard. 😳

Welp, that made the decision easy.

We sold the house to pay for a new beginning.

Back to shitting myself…

I arrived at Harvard for the first of three stays on campus.

A month before, the faculty had sent all of the required reading and case studies for that first two-week term. Printed out, it filled two 3-inch binders. 🤯

It was so overwhelming that I canceled a trip to France so that I could spend every spare moment studying the material before school officially started.

But even though I prepared as diligently as possible, my heart was trapped in my throat when I finally stepped into Wasserstein Hall for my class’s welcome reception.

I had never been so nervous in my life. 😬 

“Hey, it’s the ice skater,” bellowed a California accent from across the hall.

An energetic man with a beaming smile darted over to introduce himself. He was one of my new classmates, and led the real estate division of the company that owned the Anaheim Ducks NHL team.

His name was Ian, and he was the least intimidating person imaginable.

I unclenched a little bit. 😮‍💨 

The hall was a sea of new faces — all friendly, curious, and just as jittery as I was.

Once everyone checked-in, the faculty ushered us into an event space, gave us alcohol, and split us into study groups, with whom we were instructed to prepare for each day’s case studies.

Then, like a scene from The Amazing Race, they shot a metaphoric starting pistol, and told us all to grab our group mates and get to work.

Have plans for tonight? Not anymore. ❌ 

You’re gonna spend tonight prepping the f*ck out of tomorrow’s case studies with a group of strangers.

Holy shit. This was real.

Time to get to work

We all rushed out of Wasserstein Hall, and three different study groups ended up at the same restaurant near campus. 

After a short discussion about the following day’s case studies, the conversation shifted to a far more interesting topic — each other.

We ordered another round, and got to know one another.

…Oh, why don’t we share a bottle of wine and chat some more?...

…Where did these cocktails come from? Gosh, y’all are funnn…

…Tequila shots? Well, if you insist… 😵‍💫

I stumbled home, and suffered the terrifying realization that I was unquestionably drunk.

And tomorrow, beginning at 9am sharp, was our first day of class. 🤦

So, I endured my first official day at Harvard with one of the worst hangovers of my life.

(Hey, at least I made it to class.)

Despite months of preparation, my mind felt cloudy, and I was cursing myself for my inability to jump into the conversation with creative insights that were on the tip of my tongue.

But that evening, when one of my classmates suggested that we all go out again, I rallied.

This became our normal routine. I grew accustomed to being hyped-up at night, and hazy in class.

Why did I do it?

Back then, I couldn’t identify the logic that pushed me to prioritize socializing over academics. It seemed ludicrous. 

But we had precious little time together on campus, and every minute that I spent with these people electrified me. ⚡️ 

They came from all over the world. They had unique perspectives, fascinating stories, and most importantly, they made me laugh.

But in hindsight, it’s clear as day — I had found my tribe. The sense of belonging this group offered me far surpassed all the other advantages Harvard delivered.

📚 As a species, we learn a little bit from books. 

🧑‍🏫 We learn a little bit from teachers. 

🕹️ We learn a little bit from practice.

But we learn the most by surrounding ourselves with wickedly smart, agile, and curious people who truly care about us. 

It’s the best kind of drug. 

A group like this supplies us with boundless energy, a superhuman feeling of possibility, and the support we need to do epic shit.

But — when we surround ourselves with closed-minded people who lack ambition and mental agility, they can quickly transform us into the worst possible version of ourselves.

This is why I felt so hopeless with the housewives in the suburbs, and so limitless with my Harvard classmates.

It was the same me — literally a few months apart. The only thing that changed was the group of people I was spending time with.

And it stuck.

These crazy party animals are still my best friends. ❤️

Hop over to LinkedIn and tell me about your friends. I doubt they’re better than mine, but I’ll keep an open mind. 😉 

Cheers! 🍻

-Kristin :-)

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