By Irene Wong, Graduating Senior
During her time in Rampage, Wong has served as a Staff Writer and Photo
Editor. She will continue her education at University of California, Davis.
A vein of optimism always existed in me. If one thing was consistently true, it was that a speckle of hope was enough for me. No matter how ridiculous a circumstance was, I found the silver lining. That’s still true. But for a time, it wasn’t.
That week of Spring 2020 we all looked forward to missing school which unexpectedly snowballed into weeks, and a concern for safety soon bore a resemblance to a dystopian lifestyle– no contact with a human beyond property limits. I, for one, mistakenly took it to an extreme, and for months did not leave the house, not even for some sunlight.
Those weeks grew to more than a year and over the course of this year, I underwent a milestone of change.
I became ill. The stress and dramatic change of environment led to the surfacing of a chronic illness. Although my ailment wasn’t the virus that plagued the world, it was one that plagued over my own. It took away sleep, took away security and took away hope. The one thing it did leave, however– and paid back generously– was fear.
Fortunately, I received treatment a few months into my symptoms showing. And of no surprise for a high school senior, recovery included a comprehensive reevaluation of my lifestyle. So, I’m here, covering all of the given bases– sleep, diet, exercise– and some specialist tells me that getting rid of unnecessary stress calls for better health as well.
Well, I’m shocked.
Without fail, I realized that the internal contemplations I embraced put me at odds against my well-being. I held a mentality for the past six years that believed success came first; health and happiness sat there waiting once I got a degree, once I found my dream job, once I became an idealized person that only exists fictionally.
With that understanding, I paused my life. In the midst of the rushing and working, the all-nighters that engulf us in this constant rat race, I never made time to invest in my own happiness. I abandoned my suffocating tendencies and forced myself to change. I began to revisit the things I once enjoyed and adopted pastimes that I previously neglected– things as plain as leisurely conversations with my family.
Through that time, I learned what it was like to live in the moment, enjoying the now instead of reminiscing mere potential or fearing what the future would hold. I learned what it was like to be grounded in my values, and to appreciate aimless moments of peace.
This year, as adverse as it was, was a hidden blessing. I now look back on those nights where I stayed up working until the sun rose, still finding fault in my work, with that optimism and understanding that even if I messed up this once, life moves forward. I can move forward.
So to those that reach a similar circumstance, I want you to know that you have a whole life ahead of you to work and prove yourself. It won’t be a hindrance to work on your well-being.
Take time to appreciate what you have around you. Take advantage of your youth to pursue what you want. Take back control over your life.
Though it’s only been one year of recovering, that fear I felt readily turned into gratitude.
I’m not saying that everything will be fine forever. That it’s fixed. That at my veteran age of seventeen, I can slap a “The End” or “Happily Ever After” on my story. But at least I can approach the next thing that comes with the assurance that I know how to navigate myself through it.
Petrichor, at last.