Originally written December 2015
Surrounded by 40,000 people, I felt utterly and inexplicably alone. A high achiever living amongst thousands of other achievers, the communities I had chosen to immerse myself were becoming toxic. The constant competition and need for achievement that originally attracted me to the University of Michigan were no longer invigorating and inspiring, but rather exhausting.
I was giving all my energy and value to things and relationships that were not returning value to me, and as a result, I no longer found value in myself. It began as a whisper of unhappiness that appeared when my mind wandered, but stroked by a series of undesirable events, the whisper grew into a voice.
I was not aware of the idea of holistic wellness, and decided maybe I was unhappy because I was physically unwell, not giving a thought to my spiritual and mental wellness. I became obsessed with “health” and “being fit,” and loved the immediate gratification as people told me how beautiful and thin I was becoming. I wanted to fill myself up with compliments and feel whole again.
But as the semester progressed, this emphasis on “physical wellness” was no longer about eating well and exercising, fostered by the communities I was already immersed in, it turned into a sickening obsession with superficiality. And as the days of school got busier and more consuming, and there was no time for 3-hour runs and cutting my food into thousands of pieces, I lost my idea of physical wellness as well.
As the voice of discontent became a dull roar, I accepted this state of unhappiness as my own, my new equilibrium. Human nature is naturally reactive and comfort seeking, I sought recluse in this void of unhappiness; I had become paralyzed and seemed to forget I had ever felt differently. I stopped fighting for my joy, as it was taking all my energy to get through a day before collapsing into bed. The light in my eyes dimmed, I could feel it. I avoided eye contact with the people who knew me best, I didn’t want them to see this phantom of the person I formerly was. I had lost her.
“Where is my happy girl?” my mom asked me once, and that was when I knew this person I had become was unrecognizable.
As a series of hard events occurred with a relationship I had placed too much value in and the rigorous business school curriculum consumed me, I lost it. I cried every day. I slept for entire days to dull the constant pressure in the pit of my stomach, choosing to be unconscious instead of cognitively aware of my own unhappiness. I was making myself throw up, crying until I would eventually drift off into the recluse of sleep. I cut myself off from my friends. I slacked in school. I stopped eating. I stopped tasting. I told my mom I wanted to die.
“I need help,” I sobbed. This was the turning point, I think. A lover of control and achievement, I have never experienced a true loss of control, and would never ever admit weakness or ask for help. I had fallen into this expanse of despair all on my own though, and began to realize that I could not get out without help. As I learned in a workshop I attended recently, Albert Einstein once explained that our most significant problems cannot be solved using the same level of logic that was used when the problem emerged. In retrospect, I realize that there was no way I could have pulled myself out of that hole on my own, as it was my stubborn insistence on my independence that had gotten me into my own darkness.
I don’t know what it was exactly, and I don’t think it was one individual moment or person, but maybe a culmination of a bunch of factors that helped me find some grace. But I started to realize that I could not live in misery any longer. There was still a little flame in me, like an extinguished campfire whose charred and ashy logs had sheltered a small faint ember of the burning being it used to be. There was still an ember in me, an ember begging to be saved, to be sheltered and encouraged.
I started to seek encouragement. Reaching out to the CAPS counseling program, my best friends from high school, people who I had found value in last year but had lost touch, friends who stayed with me through everything, and most of all, my parents. I was still spiraling down, but I had finally reached out my hands, and right when I thought I was going to hit the hard impact of despair, my hands made contact.
I cannot express my gratitude enough to my mom and dad for the meals they took me out to, the encouraging texts, the long phone calls, the salvation they offered by just listening and being an ever-present escape. To the friends who texted me to grab coffee or just check in, the flowers that showed up in my room or at work, the kind words of love that will forever stay with me as I relearn how to love myself, no words can express how much I owe to these people.
By reaching the very bedrock of my existence, the lowest I have ever been, I began to build myself back up again. In a class last year called Beats, Hippies, and Punks, I had learned about the dark night of the soul, the moment when you reach your very lowest point of your existence and detach from the world, and at this point alone can experience true spiritualty. I believe that perhaps, these few weeks were my dark night of the soul.
I found my spirituality on a yoga mat, covered in sweat and shaking as my arms held me in chaturanga. It was this escape, a one-hour period each day unplugged from my life, that offered me recluse from my anxieties. In these moments of dimmed light, trembling as sweat poured down my face, flowing from pose to pose, I found my grace. Yoga is not competitive, it is not self-seeking. It is an extremely intimate, introspective practice that allows you to connect to your breath, your being, and your soul. I found clarity in these moments on my mat, as my heart stopped racing and anxieties washed away as I explored my physical and mental strength.
I began to realize that I needed to invest my energy into relationships and activities that returned value to me, I no longer could keep giving and giving until I had nothing left. I learned how to say no. I had spent my 19 years of life doing things for other people, in order to be well-liked and admired, evaluating my worth on how much I was valued by others. I began to be selfish with my time and my energy, beginning with this hour of yoga each day.
From this, my search for value continued. I began to go to speakers offered by the University of Michigan that I was interested in. I picked up books that I had always wanted to read. I immersed myself in beautiful music and sought out good meals. I dyed my hair, bought clothes online that made me feel polished and put-together. I invested my time in relationships with people who valued me, who brought light into my eyes and invigorated me with their presence. I had no time for things and people who were draining me of the very joy I had fought so hard to get back. I became indulgent with my energy.
I experienced my first moment of inspiration and understanding of emotional wellness when I went and saw Sava of SavCo speak. She is truly one of my greatest role models. Coming to America as an Albanian refugee after spending a year in a refugee camp in the mountains, Sava grew up in the projects of the with all odds stacked against her. A young, female, uneducated immigrant, she began bussing tables at age 13, and because of her charisma and dedication, was managing restaurants at age 18. She now runs a multi-million dollar restaurant empire in Ann Arbor that she built herself. What resonates with me more than her incredible story of triumph, however, is her contagious enthusiasm. She had an energy about her that was captivating, as she encouraged us to “get up in there!” in regards to our relationships, jobs, passions, everything; to take control of our lives.
She left me with important takeaways, encouraging me to find my true passion in life and declaring that obstacles are merely opportunities. Messages that really resonated with me include the reminder to surround yourself with the right people, people who empower you, and to remember that authenticity is our greatest differentiator. This was important to hear, as the relationships I had committed to were turning me into a person I was not. She also spoke about how gratitude is a powerful process and that vulnerability is not always a bad thing. This really appealed to me as I had just begun to open up about how unhappy I was and was extremely vulnerable, and thankfully, was being met with extremely positive feedback.
My favorite takeaway was the idea that we need to have compassion for ourselves. “If you want to cry, cry!” she exclaimed, continuing that, “I feel that women lose compassion for themselves.” She told us not to skip moments to love and feed yourself, to be good to yourself. This was the first time I had considered the idea of wellness as something more than physical. There is undisputedly an emotional and mental component of wellness, an aspect of my health that I had been completely unaware of, that Sava brought to my attention.
The next groundbreaking speaker that transformed me was Robert E. Quinn. He spoke about purpose as an essential aspect of identity. In order to define our purpose, we must first commit ourselves to a certain level of self-awareness and internal control that makes us act, react, and consider our relationships, actions, and goals consistent to one homogenous ideology. Everyone who you speak to and interact with should understand your purpose, as by fully committing to the purpose you have defined for yourself, you become a tangible representation of your mission and values. Through clarifying our purpose, we become oriented and invigorated with the realization of our intent and our identity. I realized that while I had just begun to discover what fueled me, what impassioned me, I would gain even more energy from explicitly defining and clarifying my intention, as I would no longer feel lost in my own person.
The final important speaker that I listened to this semester was Doug Freeman, the COO of Patagonia. Among many important issues he addressed, the concept that stuck out to me the most was the innate paradox of Patagonia’s business model. They are, from conception, a company consumed by their corporate social responsibility, dedicated to the environment and minimizing their footprint. Even in their early days this dedication was present; when Yvan Chouinard, Patagonia’s founder, realized that his most successful product offering, the piton, was harmful to the very rocks it was created to climb, he changed his entire business model to offer different, more environmentally friendly products. However, Patagonia must generate revenue to survive. They must work to balance their purpose, profit generation, and their mission, saving the environment, because these initiatives are frequently in conflict.
However, what really stuck with me from this presentation is Patagonia’s unfaltering commitment to their environmentally conscious mission, even at the expense of profit maximization. They remain privately owned to retain the ability to make decisions that are not always dictated by profit generation. Patagonia can pay their employees more, be selective in their suppliers, use more expensive but environmentally friendly materials, encourage the reuse of their products instead the purchasing of new ones, dedicate $2 million to a facility that repairs their products for customers, and commit 1% of their profits each year to grassroots environmental campaigns. They remain true to themselves, the company as they were inherently created. Even though their competitors are public and profit-driven, they continue to act in accordance to their morals, and it is this commitment to their values that is their success.
I began to apply this thinking to my own life. I had been trying to be someone I wasn’t. A person who was obsessed with status and competition and being a business school financial hotshot on Wall Street and a beautiful, thin sorority girl. Both were identities that I had adopted, masks that I was holding up. While yes, I probably would experience more financial success as an investment banker, and more status as a social climber, I realize that I need to be true to the person I was inherently created as. I will not let competition and ambition consume me. I will be good to myself. I will, like Patagonia, act by following my gut and my soul, rather than what society and my peers tell me I should be doing.
So this is how I discovered the facets of wellness, and began to tend to the emotional and spiritual needs that I had ignored for so long. I feel a lightness to my being that I haven’t felt in a long time. I realize that this experience was one of growth, and while I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone, I am truly grateful for this dark night of the soul. By bringing me back to square one, I was able to seek out my own values and find this person, not the one I had lost, but rather the one I had never truly found.
As my yoga teacher said in a recent class, there was a very precise, important series of events that brought me to this moment and to this mat, and I am exactly the person I am supposed to be. I realize that this is true. While I was broken down and spiraling out of control, the wool was pulled from my eyes and I was able to clearly see who was going to pull me out of the darkness. And as Frida Kahlo once said, “At the end of the day, we can endure so much more than we think we can,” and I can attest to this, we can. My god, we can endure, and we can grow and learn to love ourselves again; we can become well.