TW: Mental Health and Illness are discussed in this post.
There is so much power in vulnerability.
As paradoxical as that may sound, it is very much true. These past couple of months in college have forced me to become a stronger person, and has forced me to illuminate my own positive attributes.
The thing is, in college, you are surrounded by a sea full of ridiculously amazing, inspiring, and wonderful people---and it is difficult to get away from them. So, you're forced to find what makes you special...unless, you are content with feeling completely uninspiring.
Yesterday I went back to my old college program and I spoke to one of my mentors about my experiences in college so far. I could tell that a lot of people were elated to see me. And that really boosted my self-esteem, because in my senior year of high school, I felt like I had become a nuisance to the programmers there because i was always at the program. I literally went to the program every single day.
My mentor was inspiring (as always). I was telling her about how there are so many amazing people at my college, and how easy it is for me to feel talentless when standing next to them.
"I just think everyone I meet is so beautiful and inspiring, but I don't see any of that in myself," I said to her. Clearly, my mindset is self-deprecating. It's been that way since I was a small child, and it enveloped my entire thought processes when I was a witness of domestic abuse within my household. Not thinking I said anything wrong, I continued speaking, mindlessly, until she interrupted me.
"That isn't true. Despite what you think, there is a distinct reason why you were accepted to that school. They didn't make a mistake with your admission," she retorted. In my stunned silence, she continued lecturing me about the un-likelihood that Berkeley made a mistake in admitting me, and how crucial it is for me to see the light in myself that everyone else sees. I listened to her. And, for once, my brain was silent. I wasn't consumed with negative thoughts trying to convince me of why somewhere her reasoning was wrong, and that there still had to be something wrong with me, even after completing my first semester at the university.
Let me tell you this: overcoming low self-esteem and -image for years is not an easy thing to do, as is mental illness. My self-depreciation can be attributed to my mental illness, but still is not excuse for me to be so hard on myself. I don't mean to that my experiences are synonymous with other's, but mine is my experience.
I don't feel as badly about myself as used to, but I have realized that being so low for so long has caused me to mentally program certain thought processes in my head. I hadn't even been thinking about how much I have improved when I said that I don't see the light in myself. I actually have seen it; I have given myself enough of a clue of it to follow my interests. Slowly but surely, I have conquered some once-paralyzing fears, just this semester. I know that I am a much stronger person than I was back when I was sixteen, or even a year ago, yet I still continued to blurt out that I was worthless.
The same thing happened to me today when I was speaking at an Alumni panel for my old high school. About an hour before going to the event, I had been fretting over what a whole bunch of high schoolers were going to think about me. I changed outfits several times (my wardrobe consists only of graphic t-shirts and jeans. There's not much to do with that); I changed my hair style even more, so as to reflect a care-free attitude (how does one pull off effort, effortlessly?); I wore earrings, took them off, then put them back on. Doing all of these things made me later to the even than I had initially planned to arrive. And, upon arriving for the event, I ended up changing clothes again because I was not satisfied with my appearance. Yes, I brought an extra shirt, and yes, I covered that shirt up with a jacket. It was pointless, obsessive thinking.
It wasn't until the panel was over I realized how utterly exhausting it was to think about what other people thought of me. If that was me in one day, then what had it been like for four years of high school?
I then remember that I had been telling everyone about how nervous I was. Giving voice to my emotions is one method I find calms me down, but not always to the positive disposal of other people. They reassured me, and it wasn't until I really got into my element that I calmed down.
After the panel, I found myself feeling very "powerful" as my old English teacher described it later. A small, soft-spoken high school freshman came up to me afterwards and told me that Berkeley was her dream school. She asked me the typical "what do I do to get in your shoes?" question, as if success is formulaic and non-discriminatory. It was the same kind of question I would have asked at her age, but I answered as big-sisterly as I could. I think I reassured her by telling her that I struggle with shyness and anxiety just as she probably does, but I told her that her efforts to reach out were just one of the ways to be successful.
Even though I sometimes can't see it, I think I am doing much, much better than I realize. My friend even told me that I am a better speaker and seemingly more confident person than I give myself credit for, and that struck me as well.
I don't know if this negative and mechanical self-criticism I do to myself is just another level of maturity that I need to overcome, or if it is a product of my mental health struggles, or if it is just my own personality (I highly doubt this one), but I know that it is there, and I know that I want to change it. These past couple of days have taught me how much my own thoughts about myself affects my relationships with other people, and my own outlook and success.
Though re-wiring my brain to love myself more will not come without undulated work and stress, I think doing so will be beneficial. If I trained myself to get into this rut, then I can get out of it.
I am sure of it.
With loving thoughts,
--E.
