October 26, 2023
When I was in my senior year of high school, I admired my teacher Ms. C because of her kindness and the personal connections she fostered with her students. So when she told me she doubted I’d succeed if I went to Temple, I was puzzled and hurt.
Her words deeply affected me. I grew up thinking other people, like my teacher, were more in touch with my feelings than I was and believed they were more equipped to see what was best for me.
She explained Temple was a big university in a city, and I probably wouldn’t enjoy it or “fit in” there, as I was known to be a sensitive person who got upset if I felt overwhelmed in any way.
Ms. C even went as far as comparing me to another peer who attended Temple, who she said had thicker skin than me. At the time, I heavily weighed her comments and tried to see myself from her perspective, but I ultimately rejected her feedback and tried to throw caution to the wind.
And when I first came to Temple in Fall 2022, everything felt natural to me, so her words didn’t cross my mind.
I was never homesick, my classes were manageable and interesting and I created friendships early on that brought me comfort. However, as quickly as things came together, they seemingly fell apart.
While adjusting to my new environment and independence during the following spring semester, misunderstandings and miscommunications led to estranged friendships, and I began struggling to balance coursework.
Still, I went into the Fall 2023 semester optimistic it would be better than the last. I was now familiar with the routine of living at university and managing academic expectations. I knew it would be a challenge, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.
However, on Oct. 26, my grasp on university life started to slip. Thursday was consistently the most burdensome day of the week for me because of my heavy class load, and that specific Thursday, a series of disruptions in my routine ensued from morning to night: I burnt my tongue on my breakfast, the printer wasn’t working and my cat broke one of my decorations, a ceramic tray.
With each additional punch the day threw at me, my anxiety grew, making things overwhelmingly difficult to balance.
Nearing the end of my day, I realized I had to go back to my apartment before my 5:30 p.m. class because I forgot a notebook I needed. Trying my best to roll with the punches, I started physically running home to grab it without inconveniencing my schedule any more than it already had been.
On my run home, I watched other students walking to and from campus on the same route. Some people were running on the STAR outdoor track, and I spotted a local middle school class getting ice cream at the Mister Softee truck.
This specific environment started to feel incredibly similar to my life in high school. I was suddenly put back into the classroom with Ms. C telling me I wouldn’t be able to handle life at Temple.
As my unlucky Thursday continued, I started to wonder if she was right. I questioned my ability to manage myself when these moments of chaos surrounded me at Temple.
I had gotten better at managing my time each Thursday until now, and I felt frustrated by my forgetfulness. I eventually made it back to my apartment, scurried to find my notebook and dashed out the door.
Thankfully, I arrived at class on time and was finally able to settle down. I was sitting there, the professor and my peers unaware of what I just had to do in order to show up, when I suddenly felt content with myself.
I quickly realized a big source of my anxiety stemmed from the lack of faith I had in myself to fix simple mistakes, fueled by the doubt of others, like Ms. C. I allowed her — and all the other people like her — and the inconveniences I faced to make me feel incapable of taking care of myself.
I was letting others’s perception of me twist my emotional side into meaning I was unable to handle myself or overwhelming situations.
Amid the chaos of Oct. 26, I doubted myself before recognizing that categorizing my natural reactions as incapable was ultimately damaging my ability to experience my life to its fullest.
However, that Thursday made me realize I’d outgrown letting others micromanage my emotions. It’s okay for me to experience strong feelings, and it doesn’t make me any less capable of handling myself during hard times.
I should’ve given myself some credit for even noticing I forgot my notebook, and I found myself wishing I hadn’t worked myself up as much as I did.
My teacher made a good point that I’m an emotional person and I can become easily overwhelmed in a crisis. However, I’m also self-sufficient and able to support myself when there are bumps in the road.
The day taught me to be kinder to myself. Although the odds of having another day like Oct. 26 are more than likely, I now know it’s nothing I can’t handle.
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