I’ve recently come to the conclusion that my professors have conspired against me to make this week the most stressful week of the semester. This week alone I had three exams, a paper, this blog post, and I have an exam next Tuesday. If that wasn’t enough, I had multiple family emergencies this week as well, culminating together to make me an exhausted, stressed, anxiety-ridden version of my normal self (frankly, these are all descriptors that describe me on a day-to-day basis, but they’ve reached their peak this week).

Although this week is in its own league of stress, I must admit that the burnout I’m feeling has been around long before this week, let alone this semester. If I’m being honest, the burnout has been accumulating since the Fall 2020 semester. I had taken calculus II that summer (a horrible mistake) and had a week to recover before jumping straight into an 18 credit semester. At the time, I thought that I would be able to adjust well enough to virtual learning and that it wouldn’t be too bad – in case you didn’t guess it, I was completely wrong.

I am not someone who is suited for virtual learning. I need the structure and motivation of physically being in an academic atmosphere. Along with my struggle to adapt to online learning, I also started dealing with my chronic sinus issues in November of that semester. By December, I was running on fumes. You might be wondering then, did I cut myself any slack and prioritize my wellbeing the following semester? Of course not! Instead, I took another 18 credits, two of which were honors courses, got a new job as a learning assistant on top of the tutoring I had been doing, and started multiple long-term service commitments.

What I was doing was genuinely unhealthy, but also not uncommon among students. I’ve noticed a common phenomenon of almost glorifying being overworked. The amount of humble-bragging that goes on in college about how many all-nighters you’ve pulled, how many tests and papers and work you have to complete; I can openly admit to partaking in it myself. Even as I was listing above all my activities last spring, with the horror I felt also came a sense of pride that I was able to do all those things. But just because I had the ability to, doesn’t mean I needed to go through with it. And although I am trying to let go of the feeling of never doing enough, it still bothers me on a regular basis.

I’ve yet to find a solution to my burnout despite watching countless Youtube videos and maintaining a strict skincare regimen, but I think cutting myself some slack is a good place to start. Did I apply the absolute best of my abilities to every test and assignment I had this week? No. But I did complete everything and got seven hours of sleep last night, and that’s good enough for me.

Words are often what they are, just words. However there are instances when certain words/phrases are just daunting. There are many such phrases that insight fear, but one that sticks out to me is the phrase “we need to talk” especially if you are in a relationship with the person who comes to you with it. In my experience, this phrase hasn’t ended with a positive outcome, and this was when I was in a relationship. I try not to let this completely bias my outlook on the phrase, because as it can be bad, I believe it has the affinity to be good. That phrase has the ability to cause catastrophe in relationships, but in my recent experience, it has given room for something to blossom. There is obvious stigma with regard to this phrase, but ultimately, what matters is the intent behind it. The “we need to talk” of my past relationship was obvious to me that the end was near given the issues that were already present in my dying relationship as sad as it sounds. In that situation which I was mentally prepared to escape, those words brought some sort of relief when normally it should bring a stomach ache and ravaging nerves. However in my recent experience, those words sought out to ruin something nice and wholesome which I preferred to remain unspoken, but instead of this talk ending as bad as I expected it to, it went the exact opposite. It brought about the birth of something new where what was already established did not have to be changed or affected in any way shape or form. This just goes to show that this universally feared phrase doesn’t need to be scary, for as it can bring about the end of a relationship, it can also bring about the beginning of something beautiful.

I hated crying since I was little, especially in front of people. I’ve created a mental block that mostly prevents me from crying in front of people, but it never applies to my Dad. When I was little, my Dad told me he believed that everyone had a tear pocket that is unique to their own with the purpose to carry your tears. When the pocket gets too heavy, its okay and necessary to empty it out. When its overfilled, it can become a ponderous burden or burst. A burst could be related to a time when you’ve been holding back your tears and then the tiniest thing caused you to have a full uncontrollable break down.

Remember that crying is totally normal, and everyone does it. It is physically and mentally important/necessary to not hold back your tears. Do you know why crying makes you feel better?

When you cry, your body releases some of the tightened muscles and heightened tension. Crying activates the parasympathetic nervous system and restores the body to a state of balance. In your brain, it releases endorphins, feel-good chemicals that helps ease both physical and emotional pain.

Be gentle on yourself when you cry.

In class we talked about the meaning of the word queer and through that discussion we talked about the self. Dr. Kate brought up a discussion question we’ve briefly touched on before, “who has the authority to tell the story of the self?” You would think it’s an easy answer. Shouldn’t you have the authority to tell your own story? Doesn’t everyone have the authority to tell their individual story?

This question really resonated with me because it’s a common theme throughout time. The oppressed and under represented often never get to fully tell their stories and often times they are rewritten by others. An easy example, that immediately comes to mind would be when women were frequently diagnosed with “hysteria”. This diagnoses basically ignored any vocalized concerns a woman had and they were given a label. Hysteria was thought of almost as a madness so you can imagine how quickly they were dismissed with that label. Another example would be the difficulty in “coming out” as disabled. Often those with invisible disabilities are forced into a situation where they have to then prove their disability. When it comes to accommodations for disabilities there is a tendency that others seem to assume that those who don’t “look” disabled must be trying to take advantage of the system. This ignores the individual trying to voice their disability and needs and completely takes over the story of the self. Here is someone trying to tell their story and instead they are told they don’t have a real disability and must be trying to get hand outs.

Another example, would be a scene from Mad Men. In this episode a woman named Betty went to psychiatrist, later that night you can see her coming home with her husband Don. Once she goes upstairs he then proceed to call her psychiatrist, and basically has a report of the session. The doctor violates her privacy and appears to tell Don everything. It comes across as if Betty is viewed as a child. That just had to be something a husband had to take care of. She had no authority of her situation, her husband and doctor were in full control of her. In the most basic sense she did not have authority over her body or mind let alone her story. The men in her life were taking over and telling her what her story was.

This is just one example but it’s seen throughout time across all different types of people and situations. This discussion could go on forever these are just some of my thoughts. But you can’t tell the story of the self if someone is re-writing because then it simply isn’t your story anymore.

I have been struggling with this question, especially the last year. It really seems like lately, no matter what I do, I just am not working hard enough. I have this one class in particular. I spend anywhere from 18-22 hours a week on this ONE CLASS, not including the time I spend actually in the lectures. This professor makes things unbearably hard and the class is nothing like I expected. Every 3 weeks or so we have an exam and the week before I get so so worked up. I uncontrollably cry day after day even though I know that isn’t helping me. I find myself so stressed out over this class I can’t think about anything else, I can’t even eat. Everyone around me puts in 1/4 of the effort I do and gets the same results if not better. At first I thought it was my studying habits but I am successful in other classes, so how would that make sense?

Like.. am I just dumb? Sometimes I think that is the only logical explanation. My family is always telling me, “oh you’re the smartest person I know”, but isn’t that their job? What I really want to know is, am I just not working hard enough? Should I be putting more hours into this class? Into work? I have little to no social life because of school and I keep telling myself it’s just for this last semester, and then I’ll be free to do whatever I want. But is that true? I want to continue my education, but do I have what it takes? Will I be able to work hard enough for a Master’s degree if I’m drowning in undergrad classes now?

I am extremely afraid of failing and that doesn’t help my anxiety about school. I always thought I was smart, but am I overestimating my abilities and that’s why I’m not having the outcomes I think I should? I do have a tendency to compare myself to others and that definitely contributes to the anxiety I have surrounding school. I always had a vision of how my life would look after school but what if I can’t achieve those goals? I am at constant battle with myself thinking that I don’t work hard enough, even though all I do is work for school! I think some expectations, especially for classes like the one I mentioned, are just unrealistic. When I’m writing this I can really see that I’m not the problem. Anyways… hopefully I’m not as dumb as this class makes me seem..

Of course when it comes to sexuality, a lot of people judge the book by its cover. Because I dress masculine according to society, a lot of people will already assume that I am lesbian or like women. Now don’t get me wrong, I LOVE WOMEN! That’s not the point though. My idea of my sexuality is way more complicated than the simple thoughts and identities that are put on me based on the way that I look. It’s no one’s business how complicated it is for me but it’s almost insulting how casual people can be with simplifying things like this.

100% of my sexuality is invisible, but what is also invisible with my sexuality, is the struggle of not feeling like I understand my sexuality. I know what I like, but do I know exactly what I like or don’t like? Is it even necessary to think about it in this way? I don’t know, but that’s the way I’m thinking. The unknown is unsatisfying and in this case in particular, a little uncomfortable. It’s like an itch that won’t go away. Maybe being a virgin has a lot to do with it. I know that I’m going to love women as I do now but maybe me not having deeply touched and/or been deeply touched by a woman or anybody has allowed more space for these uncertainties, thoughts, and ignorance to exist. So does this go away with experience? For some, they honestly don’t need it, but maybe I do. Thinking about this is pretty wild because that fact right there is a little unsettling. There are so many people forcing that idea onto queer people, that you have to fuck a certain gender to know that you don’t want to be with that gender. Trying to internally accept that I may need that experience with different people, different genders, makes me feel like a trader to the cause (of just knowing being enough). I know that it’s not a bad thing and that it’s okay, but damn…..

Here’s a small look into my head and what I be thinking sometimes. “Damn she fine, I want all of that.” “That boy cute, but I wouldn’t want to fuck cause I don’t like dick. At least I really don’t think I do, but it might feel really good though based on just pure sensory pleasure.” “Maybe you’re just afraid of penetration.” “Naw, I don’t think I could ever let a man be on top of me.” “All the people you have ever really liked have been girls. “You only really think about marrying, maybe having kids, and growing together with a woman.” “You was consistently making out with the same girl in daycare yo, and even though you was young I don’t think it was just on some playful shit.” “You feel like you’re falling in love with this beautiful and incredibly cool girl, and you have never felt that way about a boy.  I don’t think that you ever will and that’s perfectly fine with me.”  

So it’s like…um…..yeah I don’t know. I love women and maybe just women. Maybe not.

Lately I have been able to consistently take my prescribed medication, something that wasn’t possible before because I was quite horrible at keeping track of taking something like medication every single day (hello depression my old friend). So, the experience of having the opportunity to feel ”stable” recently has been… eye opening to say the least. Before, I had a bad habit of keeping my feelings and problems to myself, not expressing them to others because of the fear of possibly being a burden to them once I share such sentiments. Opening up about my mental illness altogether was something that I believed that I couldn’t do; mainly because of the thoughts of ”no one will care” or ”how dare you show weakness in front of others” and so on (it was quite horrible, my mindset that is). Within the past year or so, however, this thought process of mines has transformed and changed quite significantly. I have met individuals who showed no fear in admitting that they were experiencing hardships in their lives due to their mental illnesses, and had no qualms with expressing how their illnesses have effected them yet they have continued to stay strong because of what they have gone through. It was admirable, and with their help I have come to terms with who I am and have accepted that the individuals who is myself can be loved and appreciated even if I have all of these scars and flaws that are hard to talk about. So, getting past the self acceptance and conquering the stigma behind acknowledging/talking about mental illness as a whole, the next conundrum was the amount of word ”vomit” that came from me when explaining simple things like how I am feeling. Unfortunately, the simplest of conversations would turn into ”trauma dumps” where I would reveal my tragic origin story to whoever so much as extended an ear to what I had to say, which of course is a problem. Sometimes sharing to people things that can be heavy subjects can weigh a lot on the mind (a talk they may not have been ready for either), so my current goal is to be mindful of what I am actually communicating with people. It is a struggle and quite the paradox, since at the beginning I felt it not okay to share, but when given the freedom to do so there are still restrictions and boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed. It is progress though, and I am at the point in my life where reflection of myself and the choices/the way in which I behave determine my confidence/strength to move forward on a path of self-care and acceptance. However, as I always mention in my posts, being able to have the chance to talk about my life on a platform such as this is comforting! Since I can share as much as I have so far about myself, I consider it progress that hopefully those who possibly read this also share with me the strength to keep moving forward with confidence!

Imagine you’re a tired UMBC college student on your way to your 8AM class on the third floor of the Fine Arts Building. You find the elevator broken so you take the stairs. Despite being inconvenienced and a bit more crabby you’re perfectly able to get to class. However, when you can’t take the stairs then what? If you have reduced mobility you just have to pray that someone will be willing to help you get where you need to be or some other accommodation will be offered by the professor where you don’t need to be physically in class. Reduced mobility can come with age, injury, chronic condition, you can be born with it, and more. However, the only people who seem to be advocating for public spaces to be more accessible. Getting from point A to point B is a huge part of daily life but when it’s impossible to do that so many opportunities are also unattainable. 

Clearly, elevators are a must in any public multi-story building. Another blog post on this page from the phenomenolphemonologist perfectly captures the next issue to be addressed, “Accommodation is the bare minimum”. Although functional elevators take one less challenge away from the daily lives of the physically impaired, what if it isn’t an average day and there is a major emergency. However infrequent they seem, evacuations on this campus do occur. Last year I remember one of the dorms had to evacuate due to a pipe bursting and flooding a floor. It is common knowledge that elevators aren’t to be used during emergencies unless directed to but in a true emergency are the physically disabled forced to wait for emergency services to help them evacuate if no one else is willing or available? I browsed the 2019 UMBC Emergency Operations Plan which is created for personnel responsible for responding to emergencies and there were no specialized procedures to enable timely evacuation for the physically disabled. The advice from the university’s Office of Equity and Inclusion is a joke. Their advice for the abled-bodied consisted of things like help if you can, have a buddy system, and DO NOT use the elevators. The most outrageous advice the university gave to disabled people was to always have three days of emergency supplies. Clearly, they questioned what could be done for the physically disabled in the event of an emergency, just not enough to come up with any solutions. What about mobile stairchairs, why can’t they be on every floor along with the fire extinguisher or at least one per building? Unless it’s lawfully mandated I swear no accommodations will be provided even if there is available funding. With a quick google, the cheapest stairchair with treads was about $400 from Amazon. That is the price the university isn’t willing to pay despite the chances it could save a life.