Thoughts from a weekend of forced seclusion
I recently found myself trapped in the flu’s tight, discomforting grip — a sure, momentary deterrent in anyone’s pursuit of a pleasurable college experience. As if getting my daily to-do’s completed wasn’t hard enough, this pesky virus stepped in — rendering me incapable of getting out of bed, much less making my way to the library for some much needed study time.
While I couldn’t pinpoint what caused my nauseating stomach cramps, dripping nasal cavity and uncomfortably tightened muscles, I’m sure last weekend’s jungle juice wasn’t the greatest help in my attempts to stay healthy. Actually, come to think of it, it seems like no matter how many paces I make on the gym’s track or salads I scarf down, the college lifestyle is always exposing me to a whole slew of unhealthy situations and, in turn, sick days.
Being sick sucks, plain and simple. Being sick at college, though, feels like a sort of cruel and unusual torture. Cooped up inside a jail-cell-looking dorm room, with light bouncing off the surrounding walls — made of glossy, white-painted bricks — my eyes felt attacked at all hours of the day.
It took shrouding my room’s windows — and their faulty, half-opened blinds — in sheets to find the appropriate level of darkness my sensitive eyes so desperately craved.
Aside from the disagreeable lighting issues dorm room’s pose, college living arrangements aren’t trademarked by their immaculate appearance either. And, so, it’s hard to hope for good health among a room laden with under-the-bed dust bunnies and on-the-mirror smudges. Strangely enough, by the time one Clorox wipe makes its way into the ever-so-tiny waste basket under my desk, there’s another sneeze-inducing layer of dust lining the room.
Regardless, sitting among growing piles of empty Starbucks tea containers, mucus-filled tissues and empty packs of NyQuil, I came to a shocking realization: my schedule has lacked “me time” for as long as my collegiate memories span. And, so, I began to understand that letting my body recover also allowed for my mind to do the same.
Immersed in assignments and social engagements, I never really seem to make any time to just sit and think. I’m guessing that’s the case for many other 20-somethings, too. For some, alone time isn’t an option because it’s hard to rationalize sitting and doing nothing when there’s a painfully full litany of obligations hanging over our heads. For others, the avoidance of alone time serves as a detrimental avoidance of self-reflection.
After a weekend of thinking — in between deep chest coughing — I came to the saddening conclusion that it took illness-induced confinement to allow myself time for self-reflection. I’m constantly caught up in the polarized opposites college life consists of — intensive weekday work followed by party-focused, hedonistic fun on the weekends. It’s the reality for most college students.
Even more shocking than my realization that I’ve almost forgotten the sound of my own inward-focused voice were the conclusions my long-overdue reflections conjured. In those short few days, I found myself admitting my often denied stumbling blocks, impending insecurities and, even, congratulating myself for advancements I’ve made.
In essence, I realized that I too commonly avoid time spent alone, because I don’t want to answer to myself. That might sound overly gloomy and depressing, but I think it’s really just a part of the human experience.
Our biggest fear is letting ourselves down, maybe second to the fear of letting our parents down. We want nothing more than happiness, whatever that means at a given stage in our lives. In silence, we find reflection and in noise, deep thought is drowned out. Through ruling out deep thought, we’re able to delay the tough conversations with ourselves, grappling with mistakes made and changes needed.
While it sounds like I’m drawing on the sentiments of 21 Pilot’s “Car Radio,” I’ve found it’s a concept fitting to my own narrative.
Our still-developing brains are constantly inundated with conversations, whether we’re speaking with friends, professors and, if you’re of the journalism world, just about anyone around campus. Unfortunately, though, we often forget about the most important conversations of all: conversations with ourselves.
My weekend of forced silence and seclusion taught me that I need to start making time for willing silence and seclusion; I need to start remembering the sound of my own voice, really, and I’d argue that many others do, too
Orginally appeared on Liam’s personal Odyssey page and reposted with adaptation: https://www.theodysseyonline.com/me-time-its-not-nice-its-necessary