M.B.

On December 17 of last year, my father unexpectedly passed away. Fall classes had just ended, and I had only returned home from SLO two days earlier. I never expected myself to be in a position like this, fearing for myself and my family when it felt like just the other day I was at a regular day of school. In the span of a day, my worries went from how my finals went to how the rest of my life is going to change. Right when I felt as if my college life was about to be more established, it fell apart in every way; As a second year, I was struggling living out of the dorms and couldn’t adapt to the lack of sociability, already feeling lonely all of fall quarter. I had just joined a sorority and was playing on the club field hockey team, but couldn’t find a place where I felt like I truly belonged. Coming back in the winter didn’t make any of that better, as I then felt lonelier than ever before. Despite being on academic probation, I would still miss classes because I couldn’t get out of bed, I struggled to maintain a healthy and functional diet, and constantly endured an anxious and overwhelming feeling of being so lost with nowhere to turn. 

The worst part of it all for me was that no one knew what I was going through, because I couldn’t bring myself to accept it. My big and my roommates were the only people that I had told about what happened, and even then all I could do was text them, because nothing in life prepares you on how to tell someone your parent just died. I closed myself off from everyone, terrified that people would think I had become antisocial and ignorant, and scared of what was going to happen to my college life financially (my dad was our family’s primary provider). I met with members of my sorority’s executive board, girls I had never even talked to before, to discuss financial options and how I was thinking of just dropping. The second I got there I felt sick, and when we sat down to talk I immediately regretted even showing up. But I did, and for the first time since my father passed, I said out loud what had happened and how I was really feeling, and I think that’s the moment I came to understand the relief it was expressing this when you have people there to listen. It didn’t feel like a financial meeting, more like friends being there for you and asking you what they can do to help you. Whether they realized it or not these girls I had never even talked to before changed both how I interacted and how involved I became with my sorority as a result, and was definitely a pivotal moment for my outlook on the rest of my college life. 

A difficult part of dealing with this since then was the amount of people who didn’t know anything had happened, since maybe 30 people at most in my life here had any concept that I was going through something. I never posted anything about my father passing on social media, especially something as public as Instagram, because it just felt like too personal of a subject for me to share with the world. I wasn’t ready for the influx of attention, envious of those who were brave enough to share memories of a loved one’s life as soon as the day of their passing. As the days went by, it just never felt like the time to publicly post about it, even today. It never felt “appropriate” to simply just post about like it was another day in my life, and I still struggle to this day on communicating how I feel about the situation to people. To me, that’s the biggest reason I didn’t post that I’m sure many resonate with; It’s so tough mentally to put an Instagram caption on something that changed your entire life and make it seem like you’re okay. 

Once I became comfortable telling more people after my meeting with our executive board, I questioned what I would have done or how I would have handled posting about it on social media, and nothing ever sounded right. I have so many posts still in my drafts but could never pull the trigger, scared of others treating me differently. I came back to school this year and had a lot of realizations that I was slowly becoming tired of secretly wishing people knew so I wouldn’t have to slowly and painfully explain each time someone asked about my dad what my situation actually is. I currently live in my sorority house, and the reality of people literally living with me and not truly knowing about the most impactful event in my life is what pushed me to find a platform to tell people. I was given the opportunity to share a speech on my sorority’s preference night during recruitment, and decided to take the leap and accept the chance to tell people what I have personally struggled with and how those around me and in my sorority helped me. I can confidently say this was one of the most terrifying things I’ve ever done, and didn’t even tell friends and family I was giving a speech knowing it would make me even more nervous; Just the thought of going up in front of 200 of your sisters and 100 new faces and telling everyone your dad died less than a year ago made me physically nauseous. I had no idea the reception I would receive for it, but I got up there and did the thing, and felt so proud of myself after knowing my dad would have been proud of me too. The words of affirmation and encouragement I received after from girls I wasn’t regularly close with made me feel confident that I had chosen to take this step forward in my mental healing. I think looking back at that moment not even a month ago makes me feel so much more confident in both myself and how I act around others now, knowing that so many others were so willing to be there for me and still are. 

A part of my speech touched on a very impactful moment of my second year, when my mental health was at one of the lowest of lows. I had applied for a job at the Greek Life Office, and I didn’t get the job, but I did get an important lesson out of it. I was in a group interview for the position with my now-roommate Gabby, and was asked a question about an important skill you’ve learned this year. I proceeded to openly tell these people about everything that happened with my dad, and how it made me start treating others differently because you never know what someone else is going through. Gabby came up to me after the interview and told me how much that answer stuck with her to this day, but her actions were just one example of how caring others were to me without knowing what I was going through either. This moment is when I first began to realize that people were in my life all along that would support me, but I closed myself off for so long that they never would have had any idea I even needed support to begin with. I think this was the best way I helped myself out of the hole I had retreated into, being open with others and moving forward by doing so. 

I think if I had to give someone advice in a similar situation, I would tell them that even when you think the odds are against you there’s always someone there to stand by your side. I wish that was something I had realized earlier on in my struggles with my mental health, but now I’m not afraid to face my battles anymore, knowing that I am never truly alone and that it’s okay to ask for help; I am grateful I sought the support of those around me when I did, instead of distancing myself farther. My social presence may have never reflected it, but I know that the tragedies I have endured have shaped me to be the individual I am today, and I am proud to have handled it.