University is stressful. Everyone knows that, but all too often, students are expected to endure full course loads, part-time jobs, miscellaneous errands and social lives with only a precious few hours of sleep in between. I feel like student life has been flying past me at neck breaking speed, and I’m constantly trying to play catch-up in a fast-paced and competitive school culture that puts a lot of emphasis on excellence. Don’t get me wrong; I’m probably more passionate about school than most. I even foresee a couple more years in graduate school (because deep down we’re all masochists for academia). I’ve always been dubbed “the studious one” out of all my siblings, and the title stuck throughout university too. Maybe that played a role in the pressure I often put on myself to excel academically, but I believe it’s also natural to want to do well when I love what I study. Like many lessons in my life, however, I’ve also learned the hard way that my desire to maintain a perfect GPA doesn’t mean I should be sacrificing little pieces of myself — my energy, mental wellbeing or some semblance of a healthy social life — and no one has the right to tell me otherwise.
I learned this hard lesson in middle school, and it’s not surprising that it was around the time I first started struggling with recurring depression. I felt listless and overwhelmed, more days than not, and when I started struggling with these feelings at school, it became a big source of anxiety for me. I felt like I couldn’t approach my family with these anxieties, no matter how crippling they felt sometimes. My dad, in particular, had a “suck it up” attitude toward issues of mental health, and even when I desperately didn’t want to go to class (when it felt like, if I did, I would come apart at the seams), I anticipated being told that there was nothing wrong with me and that I was just feeling sorry for myself. I wasn’t physically sick, so why miss school? I couldn’t skip classes just because I felt sad because everyone feels sad sometimes, right?
Because of this, I pretended to have physical symptoms to hide the real problem.
I put on a real show: I produced stomach aches, nausea, the works. I was allowed to stay home for one day, which turned into two days, then three. At that point, my parents were already concerned, so when I tried to fake it for a fourth day, my dad decided to take me to the ER. Now, I’m not sure how events lined up the way they did that night, but I remember my fake symptoms were diagnosed as possible appendicitis. There was no way I could come clean now. I was in too deep, and I feared the consequences of lying more than an appendectomy. I was admitted soon after, and I kept the show going all the way into the operating room. Yep, the depression I was struggling with in seventh grade manifested as an ugly scar on my abdomen, not to mention the long days of hospitalization and blackout pain after being re-admitted for an infection.
I know this story sounds crazy, but I’ll bet that I’m not the only one who’s had to hide behind physical symptoms to justify their mental state at some point in their life. I’m older and wiser now, but I still struggle to take my mental health as seriously as my physical health. I’ve learned how important it is to be honest though — with myself and with others. I’ve been in a much better place regarding mental health throughout my undergraduate studies, but I still have low points, sometimes. On occasions when I feel like I’m coming apart, I tell myself that I’m allowed to prioritize myself over a day of classes. I’m still valid, and I’m still a good student who deserves to be here. I have to remind myself of this a lot, trust me, and it’s still hard to let go of perfect grades, even when they jeopardize my well being.
If you take anything away from this article, I want it to be this: school is important, but so are you. Next time you feel like you need a day off to unwind, get back in touch with yourself or even take a well-deserved nap; it’s okay to miss a class to do it. And, if you feel like one day isn’t going to cut it, it’s okay to reach out for help. Treat yourself with the utmost care because you only get one body and one mind, and each one is precious.