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This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Kutztown chapter.

    I had a breakdown. Actually, I had two breakdowns to be exact, both of which occurred in public. It’s so cringy, I know. Now that the embarrassment has (mostly) faded, I feel able to rehash the dirty details in an effort to sustain the mental health of anyone I can. Perhaps I am not the ideal person to be taking such advice from, but hear me out.

    College is rough. That, many of us are well aware of. Those of us that are juggling a lot may seem as if we have it all together, but the struggle to balance it all is ever present and certainly not as easy as it may appear. Hard work is not effortless. The lack of a break in the midst of it all is what truly can drive a person to their breaking point, which is exactly what happened to me.

    It all went down about a week ago. I had an oral exam for my French class that I was already given the questions to. So, I came up with the answers and then memorized them. Even though I had the answers memorized to a T, apparently a couple of my answers were not entirely correct. My professor began to shake her head and interrupt me by saying, “no, that’s not right.” She prompted me to answer correctly, but other students in the room began to look up in anticipation causing for my anxiety to flare and for me to forget every ounce of French knowledge I withhold. All I could think of was what I had memorized. Out of frustration, my professor condemned me publicly insisting that my inability to answer indicated a lack of effort and studying on my part. I left for the bathroom to cry.

She was wrong. I had studied. The problem was, I had very little time to do so. So inevitably, that was reflected in my grade. But the thing was, it wasn’t as if I could come up with more time. Between school and work, I have very little free time. Often, from 10 a.m. to 10 at night I am either in class or at work. When I arrive home so late, a decision has to be made: school or sleep. Either way, I suffer. I was trying my best and it wasn’t enough, which is incredibly discouraging.

The very next day was not any better. I spent half the morning in a frantic search for my car keys. After searching the entire campus through and through, leaving my number with multiple offices, and interrupting classes to instigate a search, I discovered I had left them in my car. So, time that could have been dedicated to homework and/or studying was wasted on a problem I’d created for myself. Later that day, on my way to work, I was pulled over. The officer could not be swindled by my tears, and instead, gave me a ticket for $182. I was late to work then to top everything off.

As I walked into work, I was unable to stop crying. I work 25 hours a week and still do not make the tickets worth in a paycheck. I had a essay due the next day that I had yet to finish and was expected to work until late. Seeing as I was unable to compose myself, my manager sent me home. Not my finest moment, but had I not reached my breaking point, I don’t think things would have eventually gone my way.

That night, I was able to finish my essay, which my professor happened to love. I met with my french teacher to set up an appointment for her to tutor me. She even allowed me to retake the oral exam after I explained my situation to her. Since then, my grade in that class has been continuously improving. But here’s the part of my sob stories I neglected to tell, after I returned to my French class from crying in the bathroom, each of my classmates either assured me things would get better or offered to help me study. When I walked into work crying, each of my coworkers hugged me and said they understood. What’s not important about these occurs is that I received sympathy, but that the kindness of others was pivotal to me having the courage to get my act together.

Aspiring Journalist | Self-Published Author