We’re getting to that midterm point of the college semester during which bouts of library-tears and shotgunned Five Hour Energies are not uncommon—especially among you first-years who are still getting the hang of this.
I’m not a cool hip college lady anymore, but even in my present grad school granny incarnation, I’m finding myself in need of some advice for getting through this part of the school year in a new place. In a way, I feel like I did when I was a first-year undergraduate, unfortunate banged bob and all. So I talked to some friends and did some thinking and now, without further dithering, I will present the resulting Midterm Manifesto to you. It’s meant to help all of us worry slightly less, smile slightly more, and be slightly more at ease about what’s just happened and what’s to come.
1. We will stop worrying so much about the things we can afford to worry less about.
I’m pretty old but I’m not that wise yet. Still, I have discovered one vital secret that might yet save your sanity for just a while longer. Here it is. I’ll whisper it.
It all means less than you think it means.
By “it all” I mean the constant irritating things we all worry about day in and day out. These things drive us crazy sometimes and we can’t get rid of them and yes, they are serious in a way. They just mean less than we think they mean.
If you’re freaking out, rank your freakout on a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being “I just dropped my pencil” to 10 being “someone died.” If it’s any less than, say, 6, you can probably feel free to disregard it.
That horrendously awkward social interaction you just had means so much less, in the grand scheme of things, than the time you will spend worrying about it. That person has already forgotten whatever embarrassing thing you said. People are far more preoccupied with other things besides that thing you said, like climate change and foreign policy. Also probably what’s on Netflix at the moment. And no, that person isn’t giving you a funny look in the lecture hall because they hate you; that’s just how their face is when they’re thinking about what’s on Netflix and drowning out the professor’s drone.
That not-so-stellar grade once or twice means much less than you think it means. It doesn’t mean you’re going to flunk out or that your mental faculties are slipping like some certain starlets’ clothing always seems to be. It means you didn’t understand some aspect of the material or you made a mistake and didn’t study as well as you could have.
And while I’m on the subject of mistakes . . .
2. We will not only own, but we will prize our mistakes.
Everything every self-help author ever expressed re: mistakes is true. Picture your mistakes as markings on your personal map that block off directions in which you don’t want to go. Your personal road builder then has a better understanding of which way to continue construction. Does the road builder sometimes get very late notice from your personal cartographer that the way he’s tending is full of wolves and giant bugs and hurt feelings and sleepless nights, and does he then have to leave off, go back, and start again in a new direction, leaving wide expanses of deserted road to become ruins and get pooped on by wild animals for all eternity? Yes. Does this enrage your road builder occasionally? You betcha.
But the less time he spends pulling his hair out and lamenting at the cartographer’s careless ineptitude and the more time he spends getting to the next starting point, the happier he’ll be. The cartographer may not be the most diligent person in the world, to be honest—he makes a lot of errors, maybe because he’s occasionally preoccupied with other things–it’s also not the cartographer’s fault that the information he gets from past explorers is often incomplete and just plain wrong. No matter how many people have lived before you, your life is uncharted territory in which you are the sole reliable trailblazer. As time goes on, your road builder and your cartographer (these guys both live in your brain, is the underlying bullet-point here, in case you didn’t get that) will have learned enough from each other to work more harmoniously and create a map that makes some semblance of sense to you.
Own your mistakes, apologize for them when necessary, learn the lesson, and move on. Guilt is only productive if you let yourself learn from it and acknowledge that you are better for having felt it and acted accordingly. If you let our guilt over a past wrong fester like those chicken wings your roommate has been keeping in the communal fridge since August, you won’t have time to focus on what’s important to you.
Which brings me to the next item:
3. We will not let anyone tell us what should be most important to us.
This doesn’t mean “We will find ways to shut down anyone who says we can’t party whenever and wherever we can.” Though this is admirable, surely.
People’s “important things” vary. For some of my friends, it’s teaching. For some of my friends, it’s writing. Or teaching writing. Or running an organization that helps dogs find good homes. Or dancing, or music, or journalism, or math, or any other subject you have available to you right now. If you like it, do it. If someone tells you it’s stupid, or that you’re not going to ever make any money doing it, or that you’re not good enough to do it, then smile at them pleasantly and keep doing it. Make time to do it if it’s important to you, even if you have to skip the Netflix marathons once in a while.
If you are experiencing financial pressure, or pressure from someone such as a parent or guardian to pursue a path that you feel uncomfortable taking, it may be wise to talk to someone on your campus, such as a teacher or counselor, who can help you decide where to go from there.
You get one life. And not to scare you, but you’re almost a quarter of the way through it. If you are responsible, and if you are not hurting anyone, it is perfectly fine to try as hard as you can to be able to do what you want with your life.
If you haven’t found your “important thing” or “important things,” fear not. Enjoy the path you’re on, make friends, learn as much as you can, and keep your mind open. You don’t have to be the best at whatever you do, and your “important thing” may change. This is normal, and you are fine.
I like the ring of that. Let’s make that the fourth item:
4. We will remember that we are fine and we will remind each other of this as often as possible.
We’re doing our best. We’re human. And we’re doing a fine job. Let’s repeat this to each other often, shall we?
We’re all in this dingy together, and no matter how calm and collected the other people seem, they’re still scared when the ocean rocks that dingy like a wagon wheel. Give comfort to, and take comfort from, your friends when you can. That’s what we’re here for—to help each other. And once your seasickness has passed, volunteering your time occasionally to help others, whether informally or with an organization, can also aid in keeping this crazy storm we call life in perspective. Volunteering can certainly become a cure for the Future Freakouts, interesting psychological events discussed in the final item:
5. We will accept that some days will just be hard, but we will remember to look for our cures and keep going.
College is hard. I don’t need to tell you this. I hear tell around these parts that life can be hard as well. It doesn’t matter who you are or where you come from; there will be days when you just want to casually rearrange your chemical makeup so you can melt into a quiet puddle somewhere rather than face the chaotic present and the fuzzy future.
This is why I’ve recently become addicted to my own personal cure for these moods: early mornings. No one else is awake yet, but I know that soon I’ll hear my neighbor stirring in the next room as she gets up and takes her books down off the shelf. Soon I’ll make tea. I’ll forget everything I didn’t do and everything I did wrong yesterday. I open the window and my books, and as I start reading, the cleanest smell in the world floods my little grad-student mole-hole.
The best part is, I’ll get so many more of these! Many more mornings, and many more tries.
And so will you.