Tag: college

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Health Care Mind Mental Health Health

I’ve ditched all-nighters, and here’s why you should too

A woman in a gray hijab sits on a bed holding a cup and using her laptop at night.
[Image Description: A woman in a gray hijab sits on a bed holding a cup and using her laptop at night.] Via Pexels

I have to admit something. I’ve never pulled all-nighters for work. Even in university, and now as I start to pick up different jobs, I’ve never stayed up all night to finish assignments. Sure, I’ve pulled them for flights or nights out, but other than that, I always manage to squeeze in some shut-eye time. I have to, otherwise, I can’t operate. 

I know this from experience. Once, I had a class in Florence, Italy, and my roommates and I spent the whole day touring the city, reserving the nighttime to work on our essays. I couldn’t have spent more than three hours past midnight typing away for an assignment before I felt desperately ill.

I needed to lie down! I was a cranky mess for two days afterward, and my friends can attest to that. I knew missing out on sleep has a very clear effect on me. But still, I pushed myself for school. I wanted to complete my assignments and attempting an all-nighter seemed like an obvious way to stay on top of things.

While all-nighters do not sit well with me, perhaps you are reading this thinking they work for you. Maybe you have always resorted to this method and it has become fool-proof. Well, unfortunately, I have some bad news for you. Skipping out on sleep is not something that can be dismissed because it is not a sustainable lifestyle at all. While it may seem like an appealing way to get more time in your day, it can have devastating consequences. 

I hear you saying, “But can’t it be slept off?” I used to think the same way.

Can you make up for lost sleep by sleeping in? Nope!

Taking an introductory course in psychology opened my eyes to the dangers of bad sleep hygiene. If you were to hold out two scans of a brain—one from a person who lacked sleep and another who has recently suffered a concussion—they would look eerily similar. Skipping out on sleep can cause irreversible damage to your brain. The brain holds these scars, even if we “make up” for the lost sleep. Imagine that damage over time if we continually (try to) pull those all-nighters. 

This may come as a shock as the idea of all-nighters has been glamorized by movies and other media as an essential part of college. I always understood skipping out on sleep as a sign of putting in the effort, burning the midnight oil to wrap up a project.

I used to feel bad about not being able to stay up all night at the library, comparing myself to other students that were holding up just fine. I felt that it was expected of me to sacrifice my sleep for my studies and my career. Yet, does our productivity have to come at the cost of our wellbeing? 

Our toxic ideas of productivity are impairing our health. I came to a point where I really needed to rethink the way that I was approaching sleep and all-nighters.

While it can be easy and often tempting to get sucked into the grind of getting little or no sleep to clear up my task list, from now on I’ll be thinking twice about the physical and mental toll on my health. I hope you do, as well. 

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Categories
Career Education Now + Beyond

If you’re heading back to school, you need this advice for extracurriculars

School kids with backpacks walk towards a building.
[Image Description: School kids with backpacks walk towards a building.] Via Pexels

I’m not going to lie to you. Everything you do in school is not going to follow you for the rest of your life. Your grades won’t define your future, those certificates will stay piled up in your cupboard, your friend group might not stay together, and you’ll never use calculus to figure out your finances. 

When I graduated high school, I wondered, should I have put so much effort into extracurriculars? Maybe I shouldn’t have spent so many years in the Student Council, putting hours of effort into drafting minutes of meetings, writing emails, organizing my team, and being a bridge between students and teachers. When all this hard work couldn’t get me into the university that I dreamt of, what was the point of the hustle?

The answer came to me in little revelations. Putting effort into activities and extracurriculars does pay off. Whether it be a painting competition you participated in, organizing a sports event, or running a literature club, it makes a difference. I cannot guarantee that extracurriculars will help you get into university. But in a few years, you’ll realize how much it transformed you as a person. 



A few months after I started university, I found it very easy to put myself in new environments that would otherwise seem daunting. I could easily market my skills and manage my time productively. Furthermore, I was open to opportunities that came my way. 

Working with a team at school events is an opportunity to figure out what you want in your future career. Almost all activities in school are unpaid, but they help you grasp the idea of intrinsic motivation or satisfaction. You learn what motivates you apart from money and this can be the key to success in your life. It’s a chance to invest time and effort in the things that interest you. 

In fact, some aspects of our personality stay hidden until we challenge them. We’re meant to get out of our comfort zone and take chances. Putting yourself in tough situations doesn’t make you a bad decision-maker. It means you’re willing to see yourself grow and have faith in yourself. Confidence doesn’t come on its own. Having faith in yourself and your skills can tap into your true potential.

While clubs and organizations do so much to help you learn about yourself, they also help you learn how to interact with others. Extracurricular activities and student leadership keep you constantly in touch with your peers and teachers, whether you like it or not. Even text messaging or email help you develop a style of communication that sets you apart. You learn the dos and don’ts of interacting with people who work with you and the people you work for. 

Furthermore, if you become a leader in an organization or group, you learn additional skills. Leadership is NOT about being the best in your team. A good leader can recognize their teammates’ abilities and push them to do their best. Extracurriculars can help you learn these skills and even notice them in others. Being a good leader also teaches you to be responsible and accountable for your actions and decisions. Managing an event or participating in a competition with a team is a completely different experience than a group project. You will notice that the people you form teams with are motivated to perform better since they’re doing it out of their free will. You will also find certain people you cannot stand, but trust me on this: It helps you figure out ways to deal with people you don’t like. 

With all that communication, you also learn to manage conflicting interests and priorities. High school does this thing where you’re packed with everything: exam preparation, the biggest competition of the year, and a charity drive all at once. It can also give you a taste of multi-tasking: Learning to manage your academics and perform activities outside of that sphere is a very underrated skill. 

Assume that you’re part of a school club. That experience can answer so many questions you wouldn’t otherwise know. What kind of people get along with each other? What leadership style is necessary when your club isn’t doing well? What is the best way to assign duties? How do you deal with freeloaders? Do you need to stay back at school to finish decorating the auditorium or is there someone you can assign it to? How will you finish your artwork due Saturday when you have a big test the day after? Simply being a part of a larger organization can give you so many insights into how people work.  

School may be a nightmare for some, but we need to realize good things don’t come on a silver platter. The subjects you study in school today may not even be relevant by the time you graduate and start working. Instead, look for creativity in yourself and around you. Learn from the people you admire and stay open-minded. Invest time in yourself and your abilities. I assure you, it will make a difference.

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Categories
College 101 Life

10 things I wish I knew before my freshman year of college

Attribution: [Image description: A picture of a woman writing in a notebook with a pen.] Via Free Photos on Pexels
Attribution: [Image description: A picture of a woman writing in a notebook with a pen.] Via Free Photos on Pexels

Adjusting to the college environment during my freshman year of undergrad was difficult, to say the least. Namely, I began to struggle in the worst ways with undiagnosed depression and anxiety among other things. What’s more, there were many times I thought I wasn’t going to finish my degree because the pressures of adulthood became too overwhelming. 

However, throughout college, I clumsily learned many important lessons regarding how to effectively manage my mental health, how to navigate friendships, course work, and deadlines as well as why it’s important to trust your intuition during such a critical time in your early adulthood.

The lessons I learned throughout my college career helped shape me into the person I am now. So, here are the 10 things I wish I could’ve known before my freshman year of college:



1. Prioritize your mental health 

According to the Anxiety and Depression Association of America (ADAA), over 40% of college students stated anxiety as their biggest concern. In addition, 75% of adults with anxiety disorder started showing symptoms by the age of 22.

With such high statistics of anxiety amongst college students, it’s important to regularly check in on yourself to make sure you’re okay. Making your mental health a top priority will also aid in ensuring other college duties can be properly taken care of.

[Image description: A cartoon brain holds up a sign that says, "Your mind matters."] Via GIPHY
[Image description: A cartoon brain holds up a sign that says, “Your mind matters.”] Via GIPHY

2. You don’t have to have all the answers right away

It’s perfectly okay to not know what to do with your degree after graduation, when you will graduate, or what you want to major in. Instead, appreciate the process of learning from others, learning about yourself, and learning about what you desire to take away from your college experience.

[Image description: A man from the show Schitts Creek saying, "you know what? I don't have all the answers.] Via GIHPY
[Image description: A man from the show Schitt’s Creek saying, “you know what? I don’t have all the answers.] Via GIHPY
 

3. It’s never too late to explore your options

Don’t let the pressure of having an unwavering plan stop you from pursuing another avenue later in your college journey. Understand, so much can change within 4+ years.

As a college freshman, keep an open mind to the possibilities that will come from the experience of navigating higher education all while coming of age. Don’t shut yourself off from any opportunities that may arise in your later college years, for it’s never too late to act on a different plan. 

[Image description: Beth, Jerry, and Summer from Rick and Morty standing around a table staring at a cube.] Via GIPHY
[Image description: Beth, Jerry, and Summer from Rick and Morty standing around a table staring at a cube.] Via GIPHY

4. Explore outside of your comfort zone

This step is admittedly difficult. I know because I’m an anxious, introverted person who has had a hard time even leaving my house or my dorm room at times. But as we all know, “you don’t grow in your comfort zone.”

Sometimes, new experiences take some courage. However, taking the occasional dip outside of your comfort zone will help you learn so many important lessons surrounding incredible things you didn’t know you were capable of.

[Image description: A man from Schitts Creek talking about growth outside of comfort zones.] Via GIPHY
[Image description: A man from Schitt’s Creek talking about growth outside of comfort zones.] Via GIPHY

5. Don’t compare yourself to others

To put it simply, your college journey is your own. At times it may seem other students are having an easier, more fun, and exciting college experience than you are. However, it’s likely you’re not directly seeing the possible stress, emotional breakdowns, and mental health struggles others are experiencing. Just focus on your journey and your health because that’s ultimately what matters the most.

[Image description: Naomi Campbell saying, "don't compare yourself to me ever."] Via GIPHY
[Image description: Naomi Campbell said, “don’t compare yourself to me ever.”] Via GIPHY
 

6. Build relationships outside of making job connections

Human beings contain more value than just being beneficial for monetary gain. Build relationships with like-minded people simply for the sake of having friends in your corner when you’re having a bad day and need a reliable shoulder to cry on. Or maybe you meet people and start a book club or activist group to spread positive messages of equality, kindness, empathy, and action.

Whatever the case, don’t let all your connections with people in college simply be for job or networking purposes. It will quickly come across as disingenuous and won’t benefit you as much as you might think in the long run.

[Image description: The Spice Girls dancing and singing, "friendship never ends."] Via GIPHY
[Image description: The Spice Girls dancing and singing, “friendship never ends.”] Via GIPHY

7. Find a mentor

Whether a professor, counselor, or fellow peer, mentors make adjusting to college much easier. Mentors will act as a guide through a difficult transition and offer necessary life and career advice that you’ll be able to utilize years after you’ve graduated.

[Image description: Greg Popovich coaching Derrick White.] Via GIPHY
[Image description: Greg Popovich coaching Derrick White.] Via GIPHY

8. Take mistakes on the chin

Trust me, mistakes are an inherent part of the college experience, especially your freshman year. Again, this is easier said than done, but simply take those mistakes on the chin. You’re human. Stuff happens. Take it easy on yourself, learn from mistakes as they come, and swiftly move on.

[Image description: Hasan Minhaj saying, "It is what it is.] Via GIPHY
[Image description: Hasan Minhaj saying, “It is what it is.] Via GIPHY
 

9. Seek help when needed

As previously mentioned, it’s imperative to put your mental health first. A necessary step in ensuring your mental health is taken care of, is seeking help when you need it. At the first sign of a decline in your mental health, don’t be ashamed to reach out to a counselor or trusted individual for assistance. Remember: you matter more than any assignment(s), exam(s), and deadline(s).

[Image description: Image that says, "It is ok to ask for help." Via yourmindmatters.com
[Image description: Image that says, “It is ok to ask for help.” Via yourmindmatters.com

10. Trust your intuition

Initially going into college, you may feel you don’t know much. In reality, you know way more than you think. College is a great opportunity to discover important revelations about yourself. However, it’s easy to get caught up in the advice from outside sources: mentors, parents, professors, etc. Do consider advice from others but also remember to trust that you know what’s best for yourself. Balance is key here!

[Image description: People at a basketball game holding up a sign that says, "Trust the process."] Via GIPHY
[Image description: People at a basketball game holding up a sign that says, “Trust the process.”] Via GIPHY
Adjusting to college is difficult. I know from experience. Always remember: take each day, each lesson, and each opportunity as it comes. Always prioritize your mental health, and trust yourself above all else. You got this!

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Categories
Life Stories Life

Being creative doesn’t need to be performative or productive

[Image description: person sitting at their computer surrounded by art supplies.] Via Pexels
[Image description: person sitting at their computer surrounded by art supplies.] Via Pexels

My hesitance with being creative started with a set of simple words on my screen: “Now is the perfect time to write your book!” I encountered variations of these words on Twitter, against the scenic backdrop of a forest in an inspiration post on Instagram. They seemed to follow me everywhere I clicked. These words became a trickling of an inner voice in my head that demanded one thing: write a book. Write the book. 

At the time, we were all in our first few weeks of the world-wide lockdown. There was a wave of posts that encouraged people to look at the bright side of staying home. After all, we had the many privileges that came with being able to have our own spaces during this time. We didn’t have to share a common eating space with colleagues and we could work in our pajamas. It wasn’t all bad, right?

Not to mention, while we self-isolated and stayed inside, our schedules had significantly cleared up. These reminders and gentle pushes served as an incentive for us to sit down and do the things we said we’d do if we had more time. My current circumstance, if I would have let it, could have been inspirational. This was the time I had been waiting for, so why wasn’t I typing away? 


I imagined myself as an artist who was finally in their own element with nothing but time and energy to create. Cocooned away in blankets, frantically typing away at her next screenplay, she uses the time she would have spent commuting to work to instead perfect her craft. Or perhaps I’d relate more to a woman whose hands dance in the warm light streaming through the window. There are paint streaks on her cheeks and the coffee in her mug has gone cold.

Then, there is also the image of a struggling artist who perseveres against all odds. Their hand is shaking, but resolute, as they photograph minute details of their surrounding, working with what they have. This artist scrapes the barrel for their inspiration, regardless of the clamor outside. Fair. But we need to remind ourselves these are heavily romanticized ways of approaching creativity. 

Reading the pandemic was the perfect time to ‘write my book‘ made me feel discouraged. I felt bogged down. I was in mourning for the perfect end to my senior year that now would never be. Trapped in my room, I felt the need to escape. Writing allows me to delve deep into myself – something I could not have been bothered with before the pandemic hit. However, as any writer can tell you, it is an incredible feeling to share your work, but writing can be a terribly lonely and internal process.  

I wasn’t partaking in much leisure creativity in those early days. Even writing my college senior project, a creative fictional piece, felt like a chore. All my energy went into listening to the voices that streamed out of my laptop during the last of my online courses.

All I wanted to do was scoop out my mind and leave it in a warm tub to rest. I watched movies, listened to music, and chatted with my roommates, using up the energy I had left on reserve. I didn’t feel inspired to produce some great masterpiece. But I had all the time in the world to do it. Since I wasn’t going anywhere, why wasn’t I writing my book?



Weren’t the arts meant to be those places where we could escape from capitalist expectations of labor and product?

Over time, I felt myself spiraling. I didn’t have an idea of what I would write. I just felt like I had to make something productive out of my time. I genuinely felt I was going to disappoint myself either way, whether I chose to pick up my pen or not.

This is all sounding gloomy, but actually, there were times when I wanted to be creative. When I felt that sudden urge to set off and start working on a new piece of writing or pick up painting as a hobby. I knew when I started working I would feel good about it, but the benchmark had been set so high that I felt discouraged.

When I was packing up to move back home, I stumbled upon a product of my literary past. I had written up a small outline of a short story sometime in January. Immediately, I wanted to drop everything, move aside the boxes from my desk, and bring the story to life.

I had an epiphany- this mindset of creating perfect art was (and is) toxic. Creativity doesn’t have to be productive. Weren’t the arts meant to be an escape from capitalist expectations of labor and product?

I am not wasting my time even if nothing comes of the writing– I am perfecting a craft.

Art didn’t need to be performative either. It didn’t have to wear the fancy label of a ‘novel’ or perform for an audience. I didn’t need to parade around and place a glossy cover over the pages. Instead, I needed to give myself permission to not even have to finish whatever project was in my drafts. Ultimately, I must accept no creative pursuit is ever wasted. I am not wasting my time if nothing comes of the writing. Rather, I am perfecting a craft. As for talent, there is no wasting that unless I don’t use it. 

The sooner I realized I could follow my creative instincts without oppressive expectations, the sooner I felt creatively liberated. Whether it be through sporadically writing a scene of a story or picking up (and putting down) a paintbrush when I feel inclined, I shouldn’t have felt pressured to fully pursue my creative urges if I didn’t want to. I should be allowed to surrender to that flurry of excitement and passion to simply express myself. Then, when the passion was over, to let it go. Truly, I didn’t even have to show my creative work to anyone or look at it ever again. 

I am teaching myself creativity isn’t meant to always be translated into something productive. The funny thing is I often did return to those pieces and paintings and continued to work on them. But that was only possible when I didn’t feel the heavy benchmark of producing a bestseller or a museum-worthy mural on my shoulders.

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Editor's Picks The Ultimate Guide to Dating Love + Sex Love

All the words I wish I could have told you

[Image Description: An image of a man and woman lying down in a field, her head is in his lap.] Via unsplash
[Image Description: An image of a man and woman lying down in a field, her head is in his lap.] Via unsplash

I got rid of my last photo of you, and I immediately regretted it. I realized that I will never be able to use the photos I took, documenting our love, as a bookmark.

I regretted that on any suspecting afternoon, with the sun gleaming just right twenty years from now, one of those photos will never fall out of an old book in front of my children and they won’t ask about the boy in the picture with curly hair and reddened cheeks.

I regretted it because you are – you were – my first love. And a person only gets one of those in a lifetime.

When I finally left I reacted curt toward you, almost passive or indifferent, because I didn’t want you to know that this was killing me too. Because I wanted to be strong – because the alternative was weak. Because we met un-intentionally and you immediately became forever etched into my soul.

I regretted it because we were damned from the start – because I found happiness in you before I found happiness in myself.

But, the reality is that I didn’t even know that I was looking for someone like you to save me from my misdirection. In fact, all I knew was that I liked the feeling in my stomach when your bright smile landed in my direction. I liked the comfort I felt in your eyes, I liked being desired. And, I liked how the beginning of our love story sprouted as if it were straight out of a Nora Ephron film.

The thing about those movies, however, is that they always ended just before the story actually began and reality set in.

For whatever reason, I thought myself righteous enough to pop our bubble. To be the one who decides that there is something better, grander, more extraordinary beyond the story of us.

So, I let it go. I convinced myself that I needed to get away so that I could start feeling again.

But seared inside my mind, hidden behind my self-proclaimed and glaring passions for the best love story known to man – and my belief that you couldn’t possibly give it to me – are the photos of you that I took in sepia. My hand on your chest. The back of your head against a sunset. Our hands holding one another. A kiss stolen in a gas station parking lot. Your eyes meeting mine with affection from the driver’s seat when we stopped at a red light and I told you to smile.

I regret that I didn’t give us the chance to seize just one more moment together. I regret that I didn’t give us a chance.

I know that you broke my heart in little ways for a long time, but I broke your heart in a big way all at once. One does not cancel out the other.

I loved you unconditionally. You knew it, too, but you lost me. I waited until I had enough and I left.

I realized that it is better to be single and search for myself, then to settle for something I feel insecure in.

Don’t get me wrong though. Our ending wasn’t nearly as tumultuous as I am making it out to be, nor as I would have liked it to be. One second we were, the next we were not. And that was it. We just ended. There was no thunder, no lightening. Nothing.

Even now as I am sorting through what exactly happened, I still can’t help but think that if you loved me the way you said you did you would have treated me the way you said you would.

I wouldn’t have had to beg.

Even when we did eventually try to talk about us, instead of ignoring the elephant in the room with banter or seduction, I’d be speechless. I didn’t know where to start.

But, please don’t mistake my silence for indifference. I do still love you. I always will, except it’s not the same. We spent so much time together and I know that I am saying so little right now to make up for it. I know that this is unbearable, but I promise you that every word I wish to utter to you is in my mind. I just can’t bring myself to speak when you look at me like that. When you draw yourself closer, it is a bribe which I can’t commit to. So please take a step back, I’m so tired of this. I am drained. If I stayed, I would spend a lifetime choking on words I wouldn’t ever dare to say.

I invested in you and I lost myself. I became dependent. And to be honest, this was the last thing I wanted. I spent close to a year relying on someone I didn’t want to rely on – nor could I. I knew it was the end long before you did, and I held on anyways, just in case, because I have a drastic fear of letting go and moving on.

But how can I reconcile breaking your heart and leaving everything we had together in just a few short minutes. You say that I took you by surprise, that you didn’t see it coming – but I don’t know how. I gave you all of the signs. You saw my silent tears. I always knew I wanted more. I was destined for something different. I felt it, deep in my bones, I just never faced it until I was forced to. I was able to ignore my confusion because we laughed with one another. We couldn’t take our hands off one another. We ran home in the pouring rain together, stopping only to kiss.

We experienced the best of one another for a short period of time, and I know that our relationship lasted as long as it was meant to. We loved each other until we couldn’t. We chewed us up and spit us out. We got everything we needed to get out of one another. We fell in and out of love from worlds apart. But I still feel terrible. And I feel like I should be feeling more even though I have been overcome with intense conflicting feelings every day since we said goodbye. Every day for close to a year.

I guess I just want you to know that I didn’t make this decision in haste. I needed to get away in order to understand more of myself.

I regret not thanking you enough for watching me blossom and believing in me so that I could believe in myself. I should have told you just how much you helped me realize the endless bounds of myself, for better or for worse.

I should have thanked you for letting me go, even though it hurt like hell.

I regret doing this to you because you waited for me. Because I gave you dozens of silent chances in my head. Because you would take me back in a second and I am here telling you that I am confused. That I need more time. That is – time to think. Time to learn and explore and dream. But all you hear is that I need to do all of these things away from you, that I need time alone. That I would rather work on building my sense of self alone than by your side.

But I deserve someone who makes me feel alive. Someone who is generous and who makes my heart jump when I tell people that they are mine. And you deserve someone who doesn’t give you an expiration date.

I am scared that maybe I made a mistake, that maybe I am foolish, or maybe that this is all that my love amounts to. I am having trouble accepting the normalcy of the end of us. The lack of explosion.

I am scared that I will forget. I am scared that after a few months everything we had will feel just like a dream. A dream that is open-ended, a dream that will constantly be on repeat in our respective minds until the end of time. Fated to carry each other’s baggage.

I regret that I now have to give you to someone else. That someone else will nuzzle into your chest, and devour your smell. I regret that I gave it all up so easily and have only in hindsight realized the weight of my naivety. Or did I? Because I also remember being so incredibly devastated, and being met with oblivion, with dismissive niceties. I remember my anxieties being belittled or made to feel small. I remember that I didn’t have the means, or the patience, to heal you.

I remember crying on the dance floor a year ago. Turning around so that none of my friends would see. I was staring at your messages. They were curt, broken and hard to make sense of. I remember being confused, I remember when someone told me for the first time that I deserved a love that was better. A love that nurtured. A love I didn’t have to settle for. A love that swept me off my feet.

I regret that we were different together than we were around everyone else. That no one got a real glimpse of us, in love. I regret being so quiet. I regret that I couldn’t love you like you loved me. I regret that you couldn’t love me the way I needed you to. I regret that we’ve run out of things to say.

I regret that our relationship was already broken even when your fingers were strumming through my hair or when we sat across from each other on the floor in a fit of laughter.

I regret knowing it was the end before you did, and holding on anyways just in case. I regret not telling you just how nervous I was and just how serious I was when I said that I thought we lost our spark. Our magic.

I regret it all because I wish that I held on to those pictures for a little while longer. I wish I studied them. Even though I knew the ending wouldn’t change.

Neither of us can fully heal our heartbreak unless we are apart. We have to heal for ourselves, rather than for the possibility that one day down the line we will be together again.

Seeing you that day, when you came by to collect your things, actually helped me realize that I am better off without you. That I am happy now. Really happy. And I no longer doubt myself. I no longer rely on you for happiness. I no longer get angry or sad because you couldn’t make me happy.



In hindsight I had absolutely no idea who I was when I met you. I still really don’t. I’m not even sure that I knew what genuine happiness looked or felt like.

Maybe that’s what ruined us after all. My indifference. My sadness. All of which at the end of the day amounted to nothing.

Soon I will be able to think about you without ripping my heart out.

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Categories
Gender & Identity Life

Intersectional feminism provided me a sense of community

[Image description: Three women smiling while looking at a phone.] Via free images on Pexels
[Image description: Three women smiling while looking at a phone.] Via free images on Pexels

Intersectional feminism has been a consistent and reliable source of community for me throughout my young-adulthood. Notably, it’s a community I’m eternally grateful to have found. This space has taught me so many important lessons about myself when I was struggling with my identity and mental health. The inherent community within intersectional feminism helped me learn to support myself as much as I should support others.

In the Fall of 2017, during my sophomore year of undergrad, I began struggling with undiagnosed depression and anxiety. At the time, I was going to school three hours away from home. Despite being at my university for three semesters, the campus and town still felt unfamiliar to me, which constantly clouded me in anxiety and discomfort. As my mental health worsened throughout the semester, it became hard for me to focus on any school or work responsibilities.

In fact, I often skipped class or called into work because it became increasingly hard to get out of bed most days. Ultimately, I had to make a critical choice that could save me from irreversible harm. So, I decided to move back home, transfer universities, and change my major.

The inherent community within intersectional feminism helped me learn to support myself as much as I should support others.

By Spring 2018, I essentially felt as though I was starting over. This felt like my second chance to “do college.” At the time, I was 20-years-old. I had a better understanding of my mental health; I knew where my passions lied; I had gained some of my dedication back. However, I knew I had some internal work to do in order to get where I needed to be regarding better health. 

Luckily, later that year I took my first women’s studies class in the Fall of 2018. I’m the kind of person who used my elective classes to explore new things as a way to satisfy my natural curiosity. The class was called “Feminist research methodologies” which explored a feminist approach to conducting research, compared to other traditional, sometimes exploitative forms of research. The class consisted of only women (which I initially thought was a shame but turned out to be a blessing) of all different ages, backgrounds, races, and ethnicities. 

Despite our differences in identity, during class discussions, everyone listened and empathized with one another. Every woman there, including my professor, was respectful of each other and offered outstanding support when other women in the class needed it. In turn, the professor as well as my classmates created such a warm, welcoming environment for me to feel comfortable; something I, and probably many other people with anxiety, never felt while being in a large classroom. 

Our feminist class was in itself an illustration of intersectional feminism, for our differences were how we connected with and listened to each other.

Our feminist class was in itself an illustration of intersectional feminism, for our differences were how we connected with and listened to each other. Intersectional feminism emphasizes the importance of acknowledging the way our marginalized identities intersect. The women in my class displayed so much solidarity and unrelenting support for every other woman there. We shared our daily struggles, societal struggles, what we were grateful for, and how we can begin implementing necessary change to create safer spaces for other communities. They taught me what being a feminist was truly about: unabashedly showing up for others. 

Interestingly, many of the girls from that class still show me support in my endeavors. I was ultimately inspired to pursue writing to spread many of the positive ideas I learned from the women in my class. Since taking this class, I’ve been a feminist who strives to uplift and advocates for myself and others the way my former classmates did, and still does, for me.

Intersectional feminism taught me how to be a necessary ally for myself as well as for others outside of my immediate community. This community has provided me a safe space to grow into an adult that is more confident, more self-aware, and more educated about the world outside of myself. So, in turn, I can provide a meaningful sense of community to those who need it too.

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Categories
Culture Life Stories Life

Don’t feel sorry for me because I don’t drink, I don’t need your sympathy

Photo of a half empty wine glasses and empty glass coke bottles at a bar.
[Image Description: Photo of a half empty wine glasses and empty glass coke bottles at a bar] via Marvin Meyer on Unsplash

As a British Muslim woman that doesn’t drink, growing up in a country that has a dominant drinking culture has made me feel uncomfortable and unwelcome around work and friendship circles. From university through to my career, I’ve had to navigate comments that have made me feel belittled about my choices and values.

“Why not?” – Is that any of your business?

“You haven’t lived until you’ve had a drink!” – I’m living just fine thank you.

“I wish I could do that, I’ve got a lot of respect for you.’”- A comment that sounds like they’re admiring my choice, but is actually patronizing and insincere.

And I’ve saved the best one till last…

“Go on, just try one!” – Yes, there are still people that think forcing someone to drink is like committing a good deed. They expect I’ll magically become a “fun” person to hang out with once I become tipsy or drunk.

To stop people from expecting me to explain myself, feeling ‘sorry’ for me or forcing me to drink, I would come up with different ways to evade any awkward interactions. I’d avoid going to socials where I knew it would involve going to a pub or bar (or leave early if I’m ‘encouraged’ to go), I’d only spend time with people that I trust won’t ask these irritating questions or I’d suggest other places to go to.


I started to feel drinking peer pressure when I attended university. During first-year whilst living in university halls, my flatmates would regularly arrange pre-drinks at our flat before going out partying and drinking even more. I had no issue with my flatmates drinking – it’s their life and it’s each to their own – but I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the drinking culture I wasn’t partaking in. The majority of people entering university were able to build close friendships with others based on their shared enjoyment of alcohol. I felt judged by my peers and definitely had FOMO, but I wasn’t going to succumb to peer pressure.

I quickly came to realize who my real friends were at university – they respected and didn’t want to change me. They like me for who I am and they didn’t make a big deal about me not drinking.

Though I felt the peer pressure dissipate at university, it reappeared when I entered the working world. It was only when I started my career that I realized how intrinsic the drinking culture is in the UK. There are after-work drinks, socials that involve drinking, birthday drinks, successful project drinks, leaving drinks. There always seems to be an excuse to drink.

I had one manager that felt it was perfectly fine to say multiple comments to me about my choices. “Aww, I feel so sorry for you!” was one condescending remark she felt was acceptable to say every so often to me. Am I living life the wrong way? Am I dull, boring, not worth other people’s time when it comes to socializing? Well according to my then-manager, I am.

I would fume. I could feel my heart rate racing when she made those comments. All I could do was take a deep breath and smile through gritted teeth. How could I stand up against my manager if she could make work more difficult for me? I learned not to respond and let her continue talking about her drunken antics instead. It felt more manageable than snapping back.

As I’m older and (I’d like to think) wiser, I’ve come to realize that the people making these comments are likely to feel judged and uncomfortable around me because of their personal drinking choices. For some people, they may have given in to peer pressure so they don’t feel left out of friendship circles. For others, they know drinking is bad for their health and it’s costly, but having a drink helps them to wind down, relax and socialize with ease. I am not the kind of person to judge. I’m not against drinking culture, I will happily go to a pub or bar with a group of friends whilst they drink alcohol and I have a fancy mocktail.

When people ask non-drinkers to explain themselves instead of respecting their choices, that’s when it gets infuriating. When I do get asked these questions now, I’ll tell them it’s my choice, just like it’s their choice to drink. I don’t judge you, so you shouldn’t judge me either.

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Categories
Health Care Mental Health Health Wellness

Free counseling is the best thing that has happened to me and my mental health this year

Attribution: [Image Description: A woman lifts her arms up into the air, head tilted slightly upwards, breathing.] Via Pexels.
Attribution: [Image Description: A woman lifts her arms up into the air, head tilted slightly upwards, breathing.] Via Pexels.

I don’t need to start this article by saying that this year’s been tough on everyone in some way, shape, or form. By now, it is simply a fact of life, a characteristic of nature, just another feature of our ever-expanding spacetime continuum. Interestingly, a lot of my difficulties throughout this year just so happened to be college-related: Where am I supposed to go? Where am I meant to start? Am I going to be at par with everyone else? Is this what I even want? I was fresh out of high school, and instead of excitement, all I could feel was fear. 

Throughout this summer, the idea of starting college was so anxiety-inducing that I had developed the habit of simply ignoring all the emails I was receiving from my college. I know, not so type-A personality of me.

An email letting me know about all the student organizations I could join? Ignored. Another one with some updates about my freshman fall? Reading that later. But when my phone flashed with an email about getting free counseling, I clicked on it without even thinking twice. 

In retrospect, my instantaneous reaction sort of shocks me. I’ve had plenty of experience in therapy at mental health service centers in the UAE, and my experiences never quite went the way I expected them to. From having my emotions reduced to not being listened to at all, I — for a very long time — internalized the idea that maybe therapy just wasn’t for me. Maybe it was less the industry’s fault and more of a problem directly stemming from me. I thought that maybe I was the kind of person who wouldn’t get better from talking about my problems. Perhaps instead I was the kind of person who should keep everything to themselves and hope that somehow, in some way, all my problems would go away. 

Immersed in a culture of “dealing with it”, within a larger world where navigating mental health services is obscure and oftentimes elitist, meant that I’ve learned to live through difficult experiences without support. But one can only be immersed in hardship for so long; at some point, you’re going to feel suffocated. At some point, you’re going to need to swim up to the surface to breathe. 

My moment of needing to swim up to the surface to catch that breath of air manifested itself in checking that email from my university’s health center. This time, help was being offered to me instead of me having to actively be on the lookout for it. This time, it was completely free — readily available and present for me and for so many, regardless of the monetary resources at our disposal. 

Taking a deep breath, I drafted an email to the health center introducing myself timidly, with a gentle, “Hello! My name is Fatima, I’m a freshman, and I’m interested in signing up for counseling throughout the fall semester!” and, every day I am grateful that I had the courage to do so. 

It’s been a month since my fall semester has commenced, and I’ve communicated to my counselor that I need to meet on a weekly basis to talk about things and clear my mind. Happily, she’s signed me up for recurring meetings that now sit patiently in my Google calendar.

It’s important to note that other than finally finding a counselor I feel listened to and genuinely supported by, the biggest difference between my past experiences in therapy and this one was the fact that my other sessions cost about 750 to 950 dirhams per session (about $200 to $260 for reference), while the counseling I was getting from my university was absolutely free.

There was a pang of deep guilt that surmounted my being every single time I would sit in the car with my mother on our way to my sessions. Most specialized mental health services tend to be located in more urbanized areas like Dubai, so in order to receive help for my Anorexia in 2017 and 2018, we’d have to take an hour-long drive in the morning, do my one-hour session, and then drive back with a 950 dirham dent in my mother’s wallet. Beyond the direct financial costs, there was also the cost of time, energy, fuel, and transport.

It seemed like there were far more obstacles to this therapy thing than there were positives. And there are so many factors that can make these obstacles even more insurmountable. Things like social class, availability of transport, and family support can affect whether or whether not someone gets the help they need. Beyond that, there exists a knowledge gap in knowing how and where to get help in the first place, which can make all the difference. These nuances and intricacies make the existence of free and accessible mental health resources in every and all communities all the more vital.

Of course, my problems have still not gone away. I still wake up so fatigued on some days that I do not have the energy to move. Most days, I can’t figure out the purpose of my existence, of the choices I make. But there’s something so cathartic about that gentle knowing in the back of your mind that, no matter what, every single week, you always have someone who willingly chooses to listen to you. That support won’t cause an astronomical dent in your savings. That you don’t need to depend on anyone else to pay for these weekly counseling sessions. They’re free and available for you whenever you want them, and especially when you need them.

Now I look forward to every Monday at 12 p.m. I wear an outfit I’ve thought carefully about — an intentional selection of textiles and colors and shapes and sizes.

I wear a cool set of earrings.

I write a short journal entry beforehand laying out all the concerns I’d like to discuss.

I keep a cup of tea an arm’s length away.

I join the Zoom call five minutes ahead of time as per the required etiquette.

And when I see my counselor’s shining face on my screen — just for a moment — I am able to breathe.

If you or someone you know is in emotional distress, check out the resources below:

* People who are deaf or hard of hearing can reach Lifeline via TTY by dialing 1-800-799-4889 or use the Lifeline Live Chat service online.

* Text TALK to 741741 for 24/7, anonymous, free counseling.

* Call the SAMHSA Treatment Referral Hotline, 1-800-662-HELP (4357), for free, confidential support for substance abuse treatment.

* Call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline1-800-273-TALK (8255). Here is a list of international suicide hotlines.

* Call the RAINN National Sexual Assault Hotline, 1-800-656-HOPE (4673), for confidential crisis support.

* Call Trevor Lifeline, 1-866-488-7386, a free and confidential suicide hotline for LGBTQ+ youth.

* 7 Cups and IMAlive are free, anonymous online text chat services with trained listeners, online therapists, and counselors.

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Categories
USA Editor's Picks 2020 Elections Politics The World

Why college students are voting for Biden/Harris this year

[Image Description: A graphic of several college students campaigning for elections] Via Pixabay
[Image Description: A graphic of several college students campaigning for elections] Via Pixabay

Back in 2016, I remember helplessly watching the Presidential Debates wondering “How did we get here?”. The Election of 2016 seemed like America’s rock bottom until the Election of 2020 came to fruition. The Election of 2016 seemed so divisive that over 100 million eligible voters did not vote in 2016. However, the upcoming 2020 Election has made young people realize how much power we truly have in our democracy despite our dissatisfaction with both Biden and Trump. We have realized that voting as a political statement is more powerful than not voting out of apathy towards both candidates in 2016.

This election is expected to shatter voting records by millions of votes, making it a historical election. This year, young voters make up about 37% of eligible voters. College voters have tremendous power in swinging this election in favor of Biden/Harris as they tend to vote blue more often than not, and to examine this trend, I asked college students why they are voting for Biden/Harris this year and what this election means to them. 

Like most voters, young people – especially first-time voters – are disturbed by the compulsion to choose for the “better of two evils.” Luis Hinojosa, a first-time voter and Dartmouth student said, “I find it difficult to have to vote for either of two candidates that I find to be less moral than I consider myself to be. However, after seeing how Trump handled the presidency, it is clear to me that he doesn’t care about every American. Therefore, I would rather see someone else take the helm; it doesn’t hurt to give someone else a chance.”

For women and members of the LGBTQ+ community,  another four years of the Trump administration is “literally terrifying” because it poses threat to their very existence. The Trump administration has repeatedly worked to limit access to contraceptive and abortion services for women and has passed a barrage of anti-LGBTQ+ legislation. Alicia Renda, a woman and member of the LGBTQ+ community at Hofstra University, is voting for Biden/Harris because “Trump’s America is personally terrifying” and because she is “worried about the people of color whose lives will be affected [by Trump’s America], especially immigrants and other people who can’t vote”. She spoke to me about how she doesn’t “fully support Biden and would love to have a candidate that is younger and more in touch with the populace”, but is settling for Biden because he is “the best we have right now”.

For the past four years, the Trump administration has come under fire multiple times for consistently bailing out the Top 1% of America, increasing the wealth gap. Unemployment rates have skyrocketed and tax cuts have been consistently awarded to owners of massive corporations, rather than ordinary citizens. To Ari Garnick, a first-time voter from Dartmouth College, this voting for Biden/Harris was a no-brainer because “pretty good beats abysmal every time”. He believes that the Biden/Harris platform will elevate America by “improving the standard of living for many of its least advantaged citizens (and non-citizens)”, allowing for greater distribution of resources. 

Similar to Ari, Umama Suriya, a South-Asian first-time voter at the University of North Texas, believes that voting for Biden/Harris is a no-brainer because it is “our only logical option of trying to have a better America”. Umama also expressed concern with Trump’s actions as he has “not done a lot for America” and may have even made America worse. She believes that the Biden/Harris ticket is the only way to rectify Trump’s mistakes. 

Throughout all of my interviews with college students, there appeared to be a consistent theme of “settling for Biden“. This became increasingly apparent to me during my interview with Ian Farm from Dartmouth College. First-time voters such as Ian are aware that “Joe Biden won’t save us”. It is up to us to “save ourselves and each other”. Ian expressed a sense of pessimism with the Biden/Harris administration’s policies but ultimately decided to vote for Biden/Harris because they will “cause fewer preventable deaths than Trump by COVID-19, and will at least pretend to make an effort to help the community”. 

Like Ian, Emma Meehan, a first-time voter from The University of Texas at Austin, disagrees with many of Joe Biden’s policies. However, she disagrees with President Donald Trump on many more key policy issues than she does Joe Biden, especially his denial of climate change. She expressed to me that “Biden’s climate change and tax policies are enticing to progressives and would help in addressing major issues the country faces”. As a woman and ally to the LGBTQ+ community, Emma believes that Biden is “far more equipped than Trump in dealing with issues that affect minorities, the LGBTQI+ community, and women”. 

In addition to their incompetency in dealing with women’s rights and LGBTQ+ rights, the Trump administration continues to be ignorant in the midst of conversations about racial equality. First-time voter Eve Carrott (Dartmouth College) expressed her support for Biden/Harris after watching President Trump “use his power to imbibe his ignorant racial prejudices into the law”, especially after his response to the Black Lives Matter Protests. 


While the Black Lives Matter Protests have been advertised as a form of “leftist” anarchy by many conservatives, some voters believe that another four years of the Trump administration would actually be anarchical for our country. Parker Himley, a queer and neurodivergent woman from Georgetown University, expressed her disapproval for the Trump Administration during our interview. “Fuck Trump. We’re not going survive another four years”, she said. To young-voters like Parker, voting for Biden/Harris is a last-ditch attempt to save democracy and the freedom that American prides itself on while remaining cognizant of necessary reform.

Finally, the Biden/Harris ticket appears to be the better platform across almost all social issues. Aliza Schuler, a first-time voter at American University, believes that “misogynism, sexism, xenophobia, homophobia, or racism of ANY KIND is unacceptable, especially in the White House”. She is voting for Biden/Harris during this election because “our universe simply cannot handle another four years of Donald Trump geologically, fiscally, socially, or emotionally. We need out”. In addition, a victory for the Biden/Harris ticket would mean that Senator Harris would be “the first woman and woman-of-color to hold a vice-presidential position, which would be a stepping stone to having a female president someday”. Aliza is optimistic that the Biden/Harris ticket will get us “one step closer” to having a female president in office, while a Trump/Pence victory would be a major setback for having women in leadership positions.

Across all of these responses, there appears to be a clear trend of “picking the lesser of two evils”. A Biden/Harris ticket was no one’s first choice, but it was a far better choice than the Trump/Pence ticket in terms of racial equality, LGBTQ+ rights, climate change, and unifying our country as a whole. Across Gen Z and millennial social media platforms, this trend has been nicknamed “Settle for Biden”, indicating that we’re just trying to make the best of an unfavorable situation. As young people continue to battle for our futures, the solution remains clear: voting!

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Categories
History Education

It is high time Shakespeare is written off as a relic of the past

[Image Description: A man blowing a baritone next to a graffiti wall art painting of William Shakespeare in London.] via Unsplash

“She hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope’s ear” one of my high school students, playing Romeo read out. 

“Miss, isn’t that racist? Referring to the color of someone’s skin and making a metaphor out of it?” Interrupted another student. 

“Well, any piece of literature is a product of its time. And racist sentiments were very common during the colonial era.” I snapped back, partly embarrassed at my shallow save. 

“But if it’s so outdated, why are we still studying it over 300 years later?” He responded.

And there it was. The ultimate question, to which I really had no answer. My Generation Z students somehow had more political correctness than the board which set the curriculum. In light of all our Anglomania as a post-colonial society, Shakespeare continues to dominate most secondary school curriculums. And somehow, as educators, we must salvage some of this “great” playwright’s legacy, by defending his racism and sexism, which can be extremely offensive to modern-day sensibilities. 

Flipping through the pages of The Merchant of Venice, the depiction of Shylock as a stone-hearted usurer is disconcerting. Shakespeare picks up on the stereotype of Jews as being greedy and practically villainizes the entire Jewish community of the time by pitting it against Bassanio and Portia’s love story. 

Race and morality appear inextricably linked in Shakespeare’s works. Portia, when discussing her prospective suitors, claims that “If he have the complexion of a devil, I had rather he should shrive me than wive me.” As Portia is presented with the proposal of a Moroccan, she immediately turns it down on the basis of his skin tone. The idea of one’s skin color as an indication of their moral aptitude was what British colonialists thrived upon. This is precisely what allowed them to spread “enlightenment” and Christianity in the “dark continent” of Africa. 

This absurd idea is taken further in Othello. The character of Othello, himself, described as ‘the dark moor’, with ‘thick lips’ is said to resemble ‘the devil’, simply because of his complexion. 

Attribution: [Image Description: Laurence Fishburne in the title role of Othello, with Kenneth Branagh (right) as Iago, 1995.] via Castle Rock Entertainment
As you read through work after work, it becomes apparent that this is no coincidence. This is Shakespeare’s world view: devoid of diversity and nuance. It is one that exalts white Christian men and creates savages and murderous brutes out of people of color. 

If Shakespeare’s internalized racial prejudice is bothering you, wait till we talk about the blatant sexism in his works. Hamlet famously claimed: “Frailty thy name is a woman.” I remember while studying Hamlet in my sophomore year of college, many were very outraged by this statement. How can you read and respect a writer who basically undermines the intelligence of your entire gender? But then I also remember when a question was raised about his not so subtle sexism, our professor wrote it off as being Hamlet’s words and not Shakespeare’s. We must not conflate the two, we were told. 

But if it was just Hamlet who thinks of women as the epitome of weakness, why is it that this theme of fragile and hysterical women appears in many more of his works? In Macbeth, for instance, an otherwise ambitious man is led astray by his wife’s greed. Shakespeare continually emphasizes the superior moral ground of his own heroes. They are moral compasses for the women in their lives. It is as if he was trying to say: women, by their very nature, are fallible and when they transgress, they must be punished. Such is the case for Taming of the Shrew which basically glorifies domestic violence.  

Living in a society where people are still recovering from a post-colonial complex, Shakespeare is not just a playwright or an artist. He is deified into a god-like figure. He is an institution, a larger than life phenomenon. He is considered as the epitome of civilization, intellectual prowess, and spiritual superiority. At least, this is how he was institutionalized by the former colonizers in order to dominate their subjects. 

Today, Shakespeare is celebrated for his supposed universality. But how can we call him universal when, in fact, most of his writing, much like other Western Canonical texts, is about royalty and the aristocracy? He only ever wrote about higher mortals. And when these grand, inaccessible tales are told to us, we take it all unflinchingly, without a grain of salt. We don’t question it because it is not relatable.

Our own sense of inferiority prevents us from ever probing how problematic it really is. 

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Categories
Best Friends Forever Life Stories Life

I took a break from my best friend, and now we’re closer than ever

[Image description: Woman holding another woman's head in front of a forest backdrop.] via Pexels
[Image description: Woman holding another woman's head in front of a forest backdrop.] Via Pexels.

Holding the phone at my ear, I picked at a frayed thread on my couch throw.

On the other end, a close friend of many years was recounting a story about her day, how she had run across the whole city for an assignment then gotten lost with her group members.

“And then what?” I asked, but I was thinking of something else, I had called her to say something. But I quickly found myself doubting it mattered, plus she seemed to have a lot to share. The story eventually shifted to her family at home.

“Why do you think she said that?” I robotically asked her. 

After a while, I got up to blow out my candle, still cradling my phone. My phone lit up against my cheek, the battery was drained. It dawned on me, at that moment, that an hour had passed and I had scarcely said much more than, “But why?” or “Okay, then?”

Something was completely off. Or had it always been like this? The balance between giving and taking had, somewhere along the way, been skewed.

I was slowly turning into a sounding board, an echo that answered back.

It had been a tough time in my life. I felt adrift in college. My roommates were dispersed around the world studying in their chosen fields while I stayed behind, picking up the pieces after a last-minute change of plans with my major. I was mentally drained from my own struggles, so hearing my friend constantly speak about hers exhausted me.

“My ears are bent.”

This is the life-changing phrase that stumbled upon me in a Journalism class. Through it, I realized that I was always the ‘listener’ in relationships, and I couldn’t ignore this fact any longer. I was slowly turning into a sounding board, an echo that answered back.

I knew I wasn’t being a good friend. Good friends don’t get tired of listening, do they? I knew she also needed my support but I couldn’t find the energy to do much more than listening. 

After that night, our conversations felt– and it hurt me to admit this to myself– tedious. I felt irritated that she didn’t notice that there was no space for me to contribute anything. Not knowing how to bring it up, I kept it deep inside. Until I found my chance when one day, there was a lull in the conversation. My friend seemed to search for something to say while we sat across from each other on the couch.

“Do you know anything about me anymore?” I asked. I wasn’t exactly sure wanted I to say, but I needed to say it. She looked at me, perplexed.

Figuring it out as I went, I told her, “Listen, for the past month, I hadn’t been able to get a word in.” 

She seemed ready to interject, but I wasn’t ready to stop speaking again. “When I’m with you, I just listen. And it’s fine, I care about you. But at the same time, I am taking in all your problems when I have enough of mine.”

She suddenly seemed so far away.

“What do you mean?” she asked me.

“I don’t know when, but spending time with you has started to feel like a task, a job,” I replied. Seeing the look on her face, I immediately wanted to take it back and say it wasn’t true. But it was.

“Do you know anything about me anymore?” I asked.

 And that’s when I received the biggest reality check.

“Well, if I don’t say anything, we’ll sit here quietly.”

She was honest, maybe even brutally so. She admitted that she was filling in for my silence. From her perspective, I was still reluctant to open up and she was exhausted from trying to pry me open. Where could we go from here? 

Sometimes it takes a little discomfort and time apart can help things heal. 

Our friendship had met a standstill and, for a while, we took some time apart. I had to confront my hesitance with being vulnerable which was rooted in the fear of not being taken seriously or worse, sounding boring.

My deteriorating sense of self-worth was eating away at my relationships. I didn’t feel what I had to say had value, so I just let myself fade away. As a consequence, those around me had to be taking up all the space in the foreground. 


I reached out to her after a couple of weeks because I knew I couldn’t change without my closest friend. We both agreed to make a conscious effort to try to keep a balance between us, which at first was incredibly awkward.

She paused ever so often to ask me, “Well, what about you?”

Yet, eventually over time, it became organic. Once again, I confided in her about the big things like relationships and anxiety about the future, as well as the smaller things. 

As we grow closer and we can add more years to our friendship, I am so glad I was able to bring it up when I did. Had I let all those feelings fester away inside my head, I would have not only never confronted my own self-worth but also could have lost someone very important to me.

Sometimes it takes a little discomfort and time apart can help things heal. 

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Categories
College 101 Dedicated Feature Life

This is why you should study abroad – I went to Madrid

[A girl is standing near the windows at Palacio de Cristal in Madrid] Via Unsplash
[A girl is standing near the windows at Palacio de Cristal in Madrid] Via Unsplash

I’ve always been a little hesitant and unsure of myself. When I started telling people that I planned on studying abroad for the Fall 2019 semester in Madrid, I could tell that they were worried. I mean, how was I going to survive alone? I wasn’t fluent in Spanish, I didn’t know anyone else that was in my program, and I don’t exactly have a plethora of common sense – I’m more book-smart. I think that part of it was that they didn’t want me to get my hopes up. Studying abroad could be a really great experience or a really terrible one, and there wasn’t room for anything in between. 

But, I was determined to prove them wrong. I always have been. Ever since I was little I’ve always felt that people saw my capabilities as one-sided. I could do this but never that. To me, it seemed like an expectation thing. No one expected me to be so independent and sturdy, especially when I appeared in front of them as fragile or sensitive.

The truth is that I had never been given the chance to prove myself in this capacity. The second that I took too long or wasn’t doing something precisely the way that someone else would, they took over. And, as a result, I became apprehensive, kind of shy, and extremely nervous. 

However, it turns out that I was right. I had been largely independent all along, and studying abroad was a great idea. I slowly realized that I could do anything I set my mind to, even this, all the while holding on tightly to my emotional tendencies. I learned a lot about myself while basking in the Mediterranean sun. 

During my time in Madrid, I met people and made connections in ways that are indescribable. I don’t know if it is because I finally found myself in a situation in which I was free from implicit restraints and boundaries or if I became a product of my surroundings. But, I am sure of at least one thing, that being that I was entering a moment in which I was young enough to still have the ignorant belief that nothing mattered, but also wise enough to know that everything mattered much more than it had ever before. There were so many things, and so many people, clawing at me and insisting for my attention, and I finally let go.

For the first time I acknowledged the positivism of this sweet, even blissful, point in my life—one that I may never get again. So, I gave in to the extremities. In doing so, the whole world opened up. I found security in empathy, I learned about ambition, self-awareness, and I felt genuine longing for the first time. I spent days dancing in streets that were once touched by Goya, Ernest Hemingway, and Velasquez. I read poems by Pablo Neruda on the metro and I ate TONS of churros con chocolate.

What I found to be the most pivotal about my experience in Madrid, though, would be living in a home-stay. This is where I spent the most time, had the most laughs, and learned the most about myself. The day after landing in Madrid I met my host family and moved into their home. While they didn’t speak any English at all, and whatever Spanish I did know I forgot the second I opened my mouth, we managed to work through it. 

I knew I wanted to build a relationship with them, but before I could do that, I had to conquer my own confidence battle. I had to remind myself that yes, they were strangers with whom I would be living with for months, but I was also a stranger to them. Frankly, we were all in the same boat. Eventually, I got used to their habits, learned their family traditions, and studied their culture until I felt like I belonged there. They made me feel like I was as much a Madrileño as they are.

At dinner, my host parents would always ask about my day, my classes, and if I was up to anything fun. On the weekends, they would recommend countless restaurants or art museums to my friends and I, and then ask me if I liked it the next day. They even comforted me when I felt overwhelmed or insecure. What I appreciated the most, however, is that they actually listened to my stories, which I am sure that I told in broken Spanish, and always seemed interested.

We really grew to love and care for one another. In those four short months I am sure that they watched me grow exponentially. I truly became myself and started to feel comfortable in my own skin. Plus, I came out being able to speak and communicate in Spanish light-years beyond my ability from when I first arrived in Madrid. 

My memories from this time in my life are whole, and they always will be whole. I’m finally able to show off my independence and I’m never turning back. This just goes to show that a little bit of introspection and determination could go a long way. Of course, I was scared to be alone and so far away but I knew that it was what I needed.  Once I convinced myself to just rip off the band-aid my possibilities for personal growth became endless.

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