One fine day, you’re minding your business, drinking your overpriced latte. Then, the next thing you know, you’re getting emotionally, academically, medically and spiritually dragged into a full-blown World Wrestling Entertainment match you did not sign up for. Annoying. Rude. Borderline wrong.
And here’s the thing nobody tells you: when life comes swinging at you from every direction possible, you’re allowed — no, encouraged to swing it right back.
The last eight weeks of the quarter have been the kind of plotline even a sitcom writer would call “too dramatic.” Family tension that feels like static in the air. 20.5 course credits piling up like they are personally offended by your existence. People treat you in ways that make you question your worth at every step, even though you are trying more than you should be.
Then the medical chaos kicks in, the kind where you have ended up in the hospital three times already. It’s the kind of stretch where breathing itself feels like another task on the overflowing calendar.
Because here’s the plot twist nobody sees coming: struggling isn’t the opposite of thriving. Sometimes struggling is the exact process that builds the version of you who survives the next disaster without fully combusting. Resilience doesn’t grow in peaceful seasons; it grows in the weeks where you’re crying every time you look into a mirror, email a professor with shaking fingers and wonder how many more times you can say “I’m fine” before the universe finally gives you a break.
So swing back at life by showing up when every part of you wants to disappear. Swing back by being proud of the bare-minimum days or the “I tried” days when you had to get out of bed even though it felt impossible. Swing back by recognizing that even when you feel lost, uncertain of your goals, your direction, your future, you are still moving. Slowly, stubbornly, but nonetheless still moving. Give yourself credit when credit’s due.
And somewhere in the middle of all the chaos, everyone loves to chime in about what they think you should do. They’ll tell you to do this, do that, go to therapy, calm down and slow down. And you’ll probably think, “Yes, thank you, I am very aware I am doing a lot. I thought I could handle it. I can still handle it … just apparently at the cost of my mental sanity.”
I used to think mental health was nothing. That if I gaslit myself hard enough into believing I was okay, then I magically was okay. But it doesn’t feel like that anymore. I want it to be okay right now — like poof — I wake up one morning and all the chaos evaporates. But life, unfortunately, doesn’t believe in magic tricks.
So instead, I’m learning to do it day by day, step by step, not necessarily fixing everything or reinventing myself. But adjusting life just enough so I’m not experiencing burnout and not going crazy every single day.
And sure, some people have been an important part of this journey by checking in, supporting and caring for me. But at the end of the day, it’s me who has to make the changes. And I fear they don’t understand that five people asking me if I’ve eaten today doesn’t help; it actually makes me feel worse.
Yes, I know I forgot to eat. I’ve buried myself under so much work that I literally don’t have time to feed myself. Because I don’t want to sit still and think about my life. I don’t want to acknowledge the chaos. Or worse, I look like I’m “tweaking” — as they love to call it now — and spiraling, even though I’m doing my best. 
In reality, they don’t understand that I’m okay, I feel just fine. Sometimes it’s the peer pressure that gets me thinking that maybe I am “tweaking.” But then I think to myself, “No, I am not,” and that for sure makes me “tweak” and spiral even more.
To be honest, nobody but yourself can do anything to truly help you. Yes, I agree people can help and guide you, but you have to put the effort in.
Because that means no matter what happens — no matter how low it gets, even when you swear it can’t get lower and somehow it still does — you will fight back. You will do better. You will do right by yourself, not for others, not for validation, not for applause. For you. Because you owe that to yourself.
If you take anything from my chaos, let it be this: take care of your health. Not just your physical body, but your mind and heart. Tiny steps go a long way. Go on a five-minute walk. Frolic around for no reason. Get yourself a treat, play an instrument, write, eat, run and do whatever actually makes you happy.
Give your brain a break from all the studying, thinking and overworking. Give yourself permission to pause. To exist. To not think. Stop for a second. Stare into the wild abyss. Let the juices flow. Listen to your brain for once instead of bulldozing over it.
That’s where the healing begins. Befriending yourself, while hard as hell, is important. And even if it’s not, you can always swing again.
