I was once told by a friend that I was Superwoman, a girl that no matter how many things she had on her list would always find time to do everything and do it well. Even today, I take pride in this Superwoman persona, the humble-brags about being overloaded with copious amounts of work and social obligations that I just couldn’t get out of, no matter how hard I tried.It was this which led to my inevitable downfall in my first year.
It’s not that I meant to become busy. For years I had dreamed about propping open my door to a world of new friends and new opportunities and eating dorm room ramen Rory Gilmore style. It is often said that university is the best part of your life and everything about UBC was so big and shiny and new. It was a chance to reinvent myself from the person who stayed indoors watching Gilmore Girls and gorging on an unhealthy amount of Walmart chicken nuggets. And before I knew it a huge part of me became desperately scared that missing out on an experience, any experience doomed me to pathetic irrelevancy.
I still remember the first few days and how out of the loop I felt, I hadn’t had any of the wild experiences promised to me, I hadn’t sat on a patch of green with my multicultural group of friends discussing the nuances of Aristotelian metaphysics. It seemed like everyone was making these deeper connections and I once again was doomed to a lonely but chicken nugget filled fate. So I said yes, to everything. Every frat party, every first-year event even the ones that didn’t include pizza, every friend that wanted to “hang out”.
And before I knew it, I was living the coveted college experience, I went to exciting parties and eventually, I found an amazing group of friends that accepted me, and yes, we did sometimes sit on patches of green.
For a short while, I was really happy, but it definitely came at a price. Every time I wasn’t surrounded by people I found myself feeling desperately lonely, trapped in a mist of my own FOMO. I’d forgotten what it was like to be alone, with only my thoughts and fears to keep me company. And it scared me. So I threw myself into even more activities, scribbling my name hastily onto the bottom of every sign up sheet and spending every waking moment with my friends doing something, tiring myself out so much that every time I was alone, I was asleep.
And then November came. The deadlines started piling up and I got lost in a world of midterms, quizzes, group projects all set to the beautiful backdrop of never-ending rain. I woke up every morning feeling truly exhausted at the mountain of tasks I was expected to achieve in a day. I was suffering but I had brought it upon myself and irregardless of how much work I had to do, I could not stop saying yes.
When things got truly out of control, I became an awful person I did not recognize. I let stress take over me and started snapping at everyone and everything, bursting out in short-tempered tirades at anyone or anything that got in my way. Drinking at sporadic times and sparsely eating, the happiness I once felt became nothing but a memory. And the friends who were closest to me bore the brunt of my helpless sporadic rages. I was so sick of being a person always a drop of a feather away from complete and utter destruction.
It took me a while to hit absolute breaking point, but when I did it was an ugly mess, the kind that includes the ugliest of crying and uses way too many tissues.Even now I find it hard to admit to myself that I am not Superwoman and that sometimes my best simply will not be good enough. It’s still hard to remember that I cannot be everywhere and do everything all at the same time. But that’s okay, because Superwoman is unfortunately fictional, and this collective experience that we all share is very very real.
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