Trembling near the ledge of the eighth story of my dorm, life was looking bleak. I peered out toward the distant ocean and noted how cruel it was to feel like a prisoner in such a spectacular setting.
The intermittent laughter echoing from the kids on the sidewalk felt like salt to my wounds. I exhaled.
As incredible as college is, the aggregated stresses (good and bad) are taxing and can lead us into situations of grave despair. With all the dramatic changes — moving, homework, papers, relationship turbulence, new residence and roommates, employment or lack thereof — it’s all a bit overwhelming. This time of year reminds me of the moment I hit rock bottom my third week into college as an undergraduate.
My girlfriend of three years and I decided to attend the same school away from home and even secured housing in the same co-ed dorm. Everything was going to be perfect.
Perfect, that is, until a few weeks before move-in when she dumped me, quickly joined a sorority and started openly dating the Ryan Reynolds of my floor.
Life came at me fast. I was devastated. To exacerbate the situation, I couldn’t find work, failed my first two exams and hyperextended my knee, so I couldn’t exercise. Which brings me back to the ledge.
Literally minutes from potentially jumping off, my roommate exited the elevator and saw me in disarray. It was embarrassing. He assuaged my fragile emotions and listened to me.
I vented and sobbed and told him to leave me alone, but thankfully, he warded off my rejections. He helped me process my feelings and coax me back to reality. Heck, he even bought me a burrito. (I’m a sucker for Mexican food.)
I recovered. To paraphrase the sagacious words from the LGBT campaign, things got better. My injury healed. My grades improved. I even started dating again about a year later.
None of it was easy, and I had relapses where I pondered doing something terrible out of desperation. Thankfully, the worst I could muster were lovesick emails from a heartbroken boy.
Cut to today. My former girlfriend — coincidentally now a resident of D.C. — is one of my best friends. We hang out once a month, confiding in one another and swapping relationship advice. We have an amazing platonic friendship. Never, ever did I expect that. Back on the eighth story of my dorm, that seemed as likely as scoring a date with Jennifer Lopez. Granted, it took me almost four years to get there, but that’s the gig — life is challenging
If we persevere through these challenges, we’re forever stronger and sometimes experience the unthinkable (still holding out for J-Lo).
Our ability to weather times of great suffering is what gives us character and graduates us to adulthood. It prepares us for future crises. The fact that I endured that low phase of my life remains a subconscious reassurance that I can endure any pressing stresses I encounter today.
Hopefully, my dramatic anecdote is about as relevant as Newt Gingrich, and you’re having a wonk of a time thus far at AU. But for anyone out there who is struggling with similar issues that I did — any whose rants aren’t trivial complaints about the boredom of Phonathon — I promise you things will improve. (No guarantees on the Phonathon.)
I’m living proof. I just needed someone to place things in context. I needed a friend.
So be a friend. Go out of your way if you see someone who could use a shoulder.
Sometimes, that’s all they need.
Conor Shapiro is a graduate student in the School of International Service. Please send comments and responses to: edpage@theeaglonline.com
