My college story is a little bit about college, but it’s mostly about what happened after college. It’s about finding two things that I didn’t know I was looking for — things that later would shape my life and who I am for years to come.

The first thing I found in college was my limit.

As a freshman at Notre Dame, I arrived with a tentative major of math with a concentration in computer science. I hadn’t taken any AP classes in high school, but I had excelled in math in science and always had teachers who cheered me on, so it seemed a reasonable choice for me. Upperclassmen joked with bright-eyed freshmen majoring in science and engineering, “Oh, you mean you are ‘pre-business’?” implying that it was just a matter of time until we switched.

I didn’t fully understand these jokes until General Chemistry. Gen Chem was the quintessential weed-out class: large, required lecture in a huge stadium-seating auditorium for all freshmen in the college of science. It moved fast: the professor took for granted background knowledge and that you had read ahead before the lecture. My eyes glazed over as the professor rattled off unfamiliar vocabulary and strange images appeared on the screen down below.

Soon came the first exam. Test grades were posted by ID number on a wall in a long hallway. One page of test scores had a large black 55.2 scribbled in marker and circled. One student nudged me and said, “That’s the mean. That’s good, because now they have to curve the grades.” That was the mean, as in, the average grade? There’s a statistic that Notre Dame could fill their entire freshman class with students who had perfect 4.0 in high school. And yet, the average of these students was a 55, an F?

I had a sinking feeling as I searched for my number on the page. I found my number, and then felt an internal punch: a 48. More points wrong than right. I had failed.

My biggest blessing, the blessing that has transformed my life, was that I was not alone in grappling with the realization that I was playing at a new level and I had better step it up.

And I did. Though, not always with the greatest habits. I stayed up late, frequently studying into the wee hours before exams. My grades improved and I started understanding the material better, but often at the expense of adequate sleep. This struggle peaked during my physics final exam at the end of my freshman year. It was my fourth final in two days, and I made it to the test exhausted, but prepared.

However, I would never finish the exam. Fifteen minutes into the exam, I fell out of my chair, overtaken by a seizure triggered by sleep deprivation. I woke up in the hospital with temporary memory loss and a new understanding about myself.

I learned that people are not invincible. You need to listen to and care for your body — nothing is more important than your health. Deadlines are important, following through on obligations matters, so you should plan for these things where you can. But, ultimately, we are people, not robots, and we have to respect our human limits. Giving your best effort sometimes means taking a break and restoring yourself so that you can continue charging ahead.

The second thing I found in college is community — my friends for life.

Over the four years I spent at Notre Dame, I met incredible people, from states I had never visited and from cities I had never heard of. I learned about other families, other heritages, other histories, other religions. I visited my friends and learned about humidity, Canadian Thanksgiving, “The T”, and Philly cheesesteaks. And, we learned about each other at a time when we were figuring out who we were. Our minds were being opened, our beliefs challenged, our academic limits tested. We explored and experimented, we laughed and cried, we prayed and we played. Sometimes we overslept and sometimes we stayed up all night. Sometimes we succeeded, but many times we failed. But, we did all this together. Going through those transformative years binds us in a way that can never be broken.

While we often think that we go to college to build our intellectual capital — and that’s true — in many ways it is the social capital we gain that is our greatest gift. Today I have friends from college down street, across the country, and in many cities in between. Our group text provides a midday laugh, a quick source of advice, and a variety of opinions on who should win The Bachelor. Collectively we work as moms, epidemiologists, dentists, doctors, directors, architects, consultants, social media gurus, and volunteers. We have gone through engagements, breakups, marriages, child births, miscarriages, depression, promotions, loss of loved ones, sick children, healthy children, getting new jobs and quitting our jobs. We took the Chinatown bus from New York to DC to see each other for 48 hours. We lent each other money when we couldn’t quite cover the bills, we shared our rooms and our couches. We traveled together to foreign countries and we gave approval to a new boyfriend. We soul searched about what to do in our mid-20s (it’s hard to be 25), how to find our career path and our passion, how to balance a family and a job. We have donated to each other’s causes, supported resolutions and new goals, and patronized each other’s businesses. We’ve given and sought advice in the middle of the night and we’ve always offered a listening ear. We’ve spent time together binge watching Netflix, on beaches, in hospitals, at reunions, and crashing at each other’s houses on business trips. We nursed hangovers, sick kids, and hurt feelings. Above all, we always supported and loved each other — even though often from afar.

It is this profound sense of community that I found in college and continues to shape every aspect of my life today.

My advice: go to college for the education and the adventure, but stay for what you learn about yourself and the relationships you build. They will serve you well long after you’ve forgotten everything you learned in Gen Chem.

Diana Adamson is a native Californian and a graduate of the University of Notre Dame. She holds Masters degrees from Saint Peters College and The London School of Economics. Her experiences in Teach For America, classroom teaching, and working abroad drive her passion for increasing access to higher education for under-resourced students. Since joining ScholarMatch in 2011, Diana has led it through gaining 501(c)3 status, significant program expansion, and developed the ScholarMatcher, the first-of-its-kind college search tool built to combat undermatching in low-income students. When she is not analyzing college data or evaluating program outcomes, Diana can be found running around with her three young children.

#MyCollegeStory is a ScholarMatch original series highlighting the diverse and varied journeys to and through higher education. Check back each month for new stories!

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