University sure as heck isn’t natural, but it’s necessary

When everything around you is new, who or what do you turn to?

Ready to take on the uni scene!

New room. New culture. New climate. New classes. New people. New routine. New teachers. New friends (no friends?). New traditions. New social events. New activities. There's one word that encompasses all this: university.

Weeks 1-5 were peachy. I felt well adjusted, ready to take on this new experience like a boss. And I felt I was handling it really well. And I felt proud of myself for that. Was I missing home? Naw. Was I missing my family and friends and way of life? Not really. This was new, and exciting, and everyone here is so supportive and welcoming and all the experiences have been great so far. Have I ever felt left out? Nope. Lonely? A bit. But that might have a lot to do with my introversion, not the lack of people.

So I was handling my classes: I’d found a way to balance things. I was participating in extra-curriculars. I was making new friends. Two A’s on my first two midterms - proof that things were going well! I was handing it! Kudos to me! This was my honeymoon phase. I loved everything about Stanford. The facilities, the technology, the people, the activities, the atmosphere, the vibes. There was something for everyone!

Until. Until I bounced up an obstacle I had no motivation to surmount: studying for my War midterm. About 17 readings covered in 5 weeks. Plus three central books and authors. So let’s say 20 authors, 20 readings, 20 POVs, 20 arguments, 20 sets of supporting evidence. It sounds crazy now that I think of it. No wonder I didn’t want to study.

All this, compounded by the fact that this was my least favourite class. I didn’t participate half as much as my peers in my discussion section because - heck - even if I’d actually done the required reading, I didn’t have anything pressing to say about it. These didn’t stir any sort of response from me, and I hadn’t really focused on linking them to the broader themes of the course. In fact, I had a hard time figuring out the relevance of a lot of these readings. And the fact that I’d started the class on a bad note (more on that later) made it even worse for me. I felt like a failure almost before the class begun.

Fancy Calypso at Bing (!)

But let’s start at the beginning of my absolutely crappy weekend that spear-headed my absolutely crappy week. Let’s just say, I never saw it coming. Friday was great: we (Cardinal Calypso - one of the best groups I have the privilege of being a part of. Such a close knit family - I wasn’t expecting that!) performed at a formal-ish concert at Bing Concert Hall (a big deal, apparently) for Mr. Bing and his alumni peers. It was so chill, and so fun, and Calypso is the perfect size for introverted little me to feel comfortable being social and open - at least more than I’m used to.

The gig was great and all, but the downward spiral began soon after, because of my dire mistake. Within the last year, I’ve figured out myself a lot. I’ve got that introverted essence but it’s something I never realised I had to plan for. I should’ve known. In the past, too much social stimulation and interaction drained me, and I wondered what was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I just let loose and enjoy myself at parties/big events/large gatherings like everyone else? But now I knew why. My thoughts were turned way inwards, and alone time was my way of recharging my batteries.

The thing is, you don’t know you need recharging till you’ve absolutely drained yourself. So by 2AM on Friday night, after various instances of being “on” and having to socialise, I felt the social slump. So by the time Saturday reached, I was in hibernation recovery mode. I left the room exactly twice for food and probably a few more times to go down the hall to pee. I wasn’t about to go to the lounge to intentionally start a conversation. Oh heck no.

At the heights of unmotivation

So the social exhaustion slash war frustration was enough to make me feel the absolute heights of unmotivation. I had my laptop out on Saturday, ready to do work, but that work never got done. And Sunday was a lot of the same, except it was interspersed with other meetings and events that required my attention. So by the time Sunday night reached, my lack of motivation had sent me into bare minimum mode. I did just what I had to do to be prepared enough for classes on Monday. And guess what? My midterm was Tuesday, which meant I still hadn’t touched (retouched?) those readings. But somehow I was internally calm. It was a bad position to be in, but somehow I didn’t completely break down. Because deep down inside, I believed - as I always do - that it would turn out alright. That’s what faith does for me. It makes the impossible seem somehow possible. Because it was crazy to think that I could be ready for this midterm given my lack of preparation  - both in recent weeks and over that weekend.

Great food, but I missed roti :(

But there was something else lingering at the back of my mind that was encouraging my lack of motivation. I didn’t realise it, but I was missing home! For the first time, I found myself thinking about my bed back home, and my house, and my family, and my mother’s cooking. Simple things like going for food were so hard that weekend. Because usually, when the social slump caught me at home, I wouldn’t have to leave the house if I didn’t want to. I could just slip downstairs and grab a bite from the fridge or the pantry, without bothering anyone, and retreat back to my room. But guess what? This is college; it doesn’t work like that. Getting the basics means effort. It means putting on decent clothes and shoes and washing your face and going to the dining hall. I had no snacks to turn to. No chocolate. The vending machine was too expensive. WalMart was too far, and required an entire half-day set aside to make that excursion. So in a sense I felt stranded. None of my regular comforts were available.

No wonder my mood got worse instead of getting better. Because the more I thought about the things I missed about home, the sadder I felt. And there was the fact that this midterm was worth 25% of my grade, and yea they say oh in the big scheme of things it doesn’t matter if you fail one midterm but I want (need) to be putting my best foot forward. Failing isn’t okay if you didn’t put your best efforts in the first place. So this was my dilemma: I couldn’t accept failure from myself, but I couldn’t bring myself to do the work to avoid that outcome. I let myself wallow so hard. I cried like a baby. I felt like I didn’t belong here. And why was I breaking down? Was I not strong enough to handle this? Was I not a 19-year-old, who should’ve been more than ready to leave the nest and be on her own? Was I not handling everything so well before? Why was I so weak now? Why couldn’t I get a grip? This wasn’t anything hugely extraordinarily difficult. It was one midterm. I’d had two the last week!

Believe it or not, it took considerable effort to send my parents a message that yes, I was missing home. But it was necessary! I needed support, but like all human beings, I was afraid to admit that and ask for it.

We are not islands. We need other people to support us and carry us through the hard times. And we need to not feel weaker for needing that support! As attractive as it sounds to be strong enough to make it on our own, the truth is that everyone needs support at some point, even if it doesn’t seem so on the outside. We do a hella good job of making our lives seems smooth and flawless to the outsider looking in, while everything may be collapsing on the inside.

What was my problem? That petty perfectionist in me didn’t let me get any downtime. Because I always had to be doing work, doing activities, getting on with something, and any moments that I took for myself were considered wasting time. It wasn’t. My mother always has to remind me that my body isn’t a machine. The lack of sleep and continuous work and go go go of the last few weeks had finally caught up with me. And instead of recognising that and allowing myself a necessary break, I beat myself up about wasting time and wasting the weekend and not handling it. And the more I wallowed, the more time I wasted. Until I reached the point where I didn’t know where to draw the line between the much-needed downtime and the wallowing.

My mom had to remind me that I couldn’t be and do everything. Because according to the petty perfectionist, I couldn’t be reasonably prepared for the exam until I was familiar with all of those readings in-depth. Sometimes, you have to let go though. I had to let go of that vision, because it was impossible to do that without sacrificing something hugely important like sleep. I had to take my mom’s advice and read up only on the things I knew very little about. It wasn’t settling, I don’t think. It was me being realistic.

An important lesson I learnt from my parents during this tough time: We all want to appear strong. The hardest things is admitting that we aren’t perfect. We see people who seem needy and we don’t want to show those qualities. But it’s not being needy; we need our loved ones and things that are familiar. We are social beings aren’t we?! We crave companionship and love and a sense of community.

You know what my mom told me, that resonated deep within my soul: “I guess that’s why that first semester is so hard. Everyone and everything is new. There’s nothing familiar and secure, even though it may be fun and exciting. And you are now forming relationships in this new and unfamiliar place. It’s almost unnatural when you think about it.”

Unnatural it is! We are thrust into a completely new environment. The only familiar things are your reflection and probably some of your belongings. Yet, the workload is heavier, and expectations are higher. Secondary school back home was stressful at times, but the main contributing factor was the schoolwork. Here, the entire transition constitutes a stressful situation, yet we’re expected to handle more than we’ve ever handled, and be good at it.

Add to that the “Fear of Missing Out” - dubbed by Stanford as “FOMO” and the Duck Syndrome. More on that later. The point is that college is crazy and it’s not natural. You can’t throw someone in the deep end and expect them to swim like a pro.

Yet it’s necessary. Because these coping mechanisms are what will carry us out into the world, and make us productive there as well. Change is the only constant, and the better we become at adapting - quickly and efficiently - the better we’ll be at handling life. It’s something we have to embrace. It will be difficult. That’s the thing: nobody ever said it was going to be easy. But we love to convince ourselves that we’re strong enough to make it easy for ourselves. But when we admit that we don’t have it all, and we can’t do it all on our own, seeking help makes us come out stronger on the other side, with insights we wouldn’t have had before.

If I hadn’t sought out the help of my family, my downward spiral could've gotten worse. My dad reassured me when he said that what I feel is normal. So why should I beat myself up for feeling something so regular?

Remember always:

So don't be afraid to reach out.

**Update: I did really well on the exam, which I consider nothing short of a miracle. God is so good!**