The 14th of February is the one day of the year where most of the earth’s population despises or loves (pun definitely intended). Cupid’s arrow will pierce the rump of a hopeless romantic, and you swear you can see the pink hearts circling over their heads like a Macbook Photo Booth filter. Next to them there’s a with a large shield attempting to, understandably, have nothing to do with a stupid, winged baby with a weapon supposedly intended for love. That’s not all though, because there is a third-party that consists of individuals, who are troubled and tortured just by life itself. There’s no Cupid or his arrows, no filter in sight, no glints of romance and no hope in sight. Welcome to my Valentine’s story.

“February 14, 2019: I don’t feel important and that’s all I want to be. I know people are frustrated at me because I’m frustrated at myself. I feel like an idiot, and I swear I cannot do anything right even if I tried..…” -An excerpt from my notes taken down in the evening of the same day.

My foreign language course took a toll on me physically and mentally. I would stay up at all times of the night to ensure I had every accent, spelling and grammar perfected. So the next day in class, when we were required to hold a conversation in front of the entire class with a partner, I wouldn’t “make a fool out of myself.” In a nutshell, the hours of preparation did not help at all because of factors out of my control. Panic rose within me that was so strong I had never felt anything like it, and I walked straight out of the classroom trying to hold back my tears until I got to somewhere relatively private. I found a bathroom I had never seen before, and fell to the ground on my knees in front of a toilet on a disgusting floor. I have never sobbed so hard in my life. I have never heard wails come out of someone’s mouth, let alone my own. I don’t know how long I was there, but at some point I got up, went back to class without looking in the mirror, and completed the presentation.

Two hours later, my day was officially finished. I kept thinking that if I took a nap or watched TV, I could shake the aftermath of whatever attack I just had, but that’s not what happened. I paced around my room, sat on my bed, got back up again, walked around some more, and the cycle continued for an hour. The whole time, I kept overthinking things and decisions in my life. Anxiety had been in my life for so long, since I was 11, and as I got older, new struggles and trauma came along with it. Then everything began to morph into so much more, so much uglier, and all consuming. I was so deep in my depression that I didn’t realize how bad it actually was or how bad it was. These awful thoughts that I had in my head popped up so often that it just became part of my “regular” thinking. I was calm and stoic as I sat down at my desk, just too numb, too sad and too done. I had to go to the medical crisis counselor at the university health center on campus, because I was afraid of myself for the first time ever. The breaking point was all in the name of academic success and the mess it brings with it.

Being college students, we often neglect our self-care because we try to balance everything important to us, whether that be a social life, a relationship, contact with family, or all the above. The addition of course work and the hours that come with it can begin to affect you before you even realize it. Don’t ignore the signs of stress and becoming “burnt out.” You know your body, so if something feels off or out of the ordinary physically or mentally, take a weekend to restart. Constantly working to find a good, steady pace for your life is tough before you find it.

Never be afraid of seeking help. Regardless of what you think, no one is judging you, and no one thinks you are weak. It takes an awfully strong person to confront their problems and take the steps to work them out. Some cannot say the same, but you can. Don’t let anyone belittle you and your experiences, especially after voluntarily deciding to open up to them. There have been too many times when an adult has said to me, “If you think college is this hard, wait until you get into the real world and you have a real job. You’ll want to be in school then.” Listen Karen, I truly understand where you are coming from, but please get out of my face. Your nonsense does not compute to me. I’m not afraid to say I take prescription medicine. In the beginning, I sometimes thought that who I was isn’t truly me when I take them, because the only way to function is if I’m essentially “drugged up”, but that’s not the case. It’s helping and improving my quality of life until I don’t need them at all, which makes it worthwhile. It’s still a work in progress, but let me tell you, I feel better than I have in a long time.