Anonymous
If you’re reading this, it’s okay to let your guard down and be vulnerable sometimes.
My playdates were always top-tier. Baking adventures, makeshift nail salons, riding around the neighborhood in my Barbie jeep, you name it. I was with a different friend almost every Friday, eagerly waiting to be picked up in the carpool line.
I’d show up to school each day with a bright smile and wide eyes, eager to spend each day at the place that was full of people I loved. When we’d get the seldom snow day call at 4am, I remember waking up to my new phone in middle school filled with exciting texts that school was canceled. But I was never that happy. I enjoyed going to school. I enjoyed being surrounded by my friends.
Yet I took that time for granted.
After freshman year, I could feel myself a little misshapen. Weekend hangouts saw less of me, and my couch saw more. Maybe I was tired from the busy school week. Maybe I was busy. Maybe I just didn’t feel like it that one time.
No. I no longer felt like I fit the mold that had been cast for me: jovial, spontaneous, and social.
I blamed my friends. I thought they didn’t care. They didn’t want me there. But it was my fault. I pulled away, thinking they wouldn’t understand. I tried to navigate the emotions that came with multiple family deaths and family members battling cancer all while attempting to satisfy my craving for near perfect grades and attendance. My grades remained high, but my sanity fell. I still showed up and sat through classes, but my mind wandered. I hid during breaks because I didn’t want to socialize with people who didn’t get it. I found comfort with one person sophomore year and let go of the rest.
But what I didn’t realize is that very few people knew why. I just didn’t think I should tell my friends because what was it to them? Perhaps a sign of weakness, a sign that I couldn’t handle it myself.
The reality was that I couldn’t.
I just wanted someone to tell me it would all be okay. Someone to tell me I didn’t need to show up with a bright smile every day if I didn’t want to.
Now that I look back, my lack of communication prevented me from receiving the support I needed. Instead, I just fractured friendships and let myself hide.
Yet this hiding made me feel so alone.
I went from having a big group to being able to count my people on one hand.
It could’ve stayed big had I just let myself be a little more vulnerable.
As I navigate through my first semester here at UNC, I’ve let my guard down a little. Coming to college comes with a certain societal expectation that it’ll be the best time of your life, full of unforgettable memories. I was told I would come home for Thanksgiving break and the time until then will fly by.
I’ve been home numerous times and called people very often–struggling. For me, it hasn’t been that easy. I see so many Instagram posts that radiate this sentiment of overwhelming positivity. I’ve not felt that way, but I’ve found so much comfort sharing how I feel with others. Instead of worrying that it would make me seem weak, I’ve begun to realize it takes more courage to speak up as opposed to just sulking.
Sharing how I feel has not only made me more comfortable, but it has opened more doors. Instead of severing friendships, I have received more texts from people who take time out of their day to check in.
To anyone who feels like owning up to your struggles is a sign of weakness, try it. Text your friend. Call someone. Trust me, you’ll realize more people are in the same boat than you think, and you’ll be showered with so much support and love.
Others will understand, and even if they don’t, they’ll still be there as a shoulder to lean on. And to everyone who has been that person for me, thank you.
Anonymous, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill
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