Scheduling my first Counseling and Psychological Services appointment earlier this fall was possibly the most terrifying thing I have had to do since stepping on this campus over two years ago.
I was lucky to have a couple supportive friends and family who wouldn’t let me allow my mental health to slide to the bottom of the to-do list, where it has resided for the majority of my Duke experience. In many ways, making that call was a personal acknowledgement that my lifestyle was corrosive to my psyche and had begun to hamper my personal development.
Over the past year, I have experienced a variety of issues as a function of my stress and anxiety. Often times the only reason I work late at night is because there are far fewer emails and messages sent after 10 PM, which gives me the space to think and write without the threat of panic. Writing these columns, for instance, has been a struggle at times, staring at a blank Word Document seeking the words to begin.
On the outside, I might appear impressive, as if I have everything together while taking six credits and managing a long extracurricular schedule. On the inside, a nagging anxiety and feelings of complete inadequacy have been a constant struggle.
I’ll admit, putting this out in public scares me, especially because it removes a lot of the barriers that allow me to pretend with casual friends that I do in fact always have everything together. But my hope is that we can start an honest and vulnerable discussion of busyness, success and the effects they have on our health at Duke. If my experiences can play a role in sparking campus dialogue, then it will be well worth it.
It is not as if these things have hampered my worldly success, but I realized recently how they have affected my personal perception of self and my enjoyment of daily life. I spent the weekend with a group of alumni and students, many of whom were involved in entrepreneurial endeavors, and over the course of the experience, I recognized quickly how many current students and alumni also struggle with the same problems I face. When you’re always busy being successful, there’s little time to figure out who you are and where you are going with your life.
My first column of the semester discussed the concept of busyness and how it restricts us from having authentic relationships with the people around us. Busy is more than a drain on relationships--it’s a cause of significantly more complicated and difficult issues. I have struggled with my mental health because I have always been busy.
When every organization and center on this campus asks “How do we get more students engaged in X?” even when X is something like “reflection,” why are we surprised when students say that they are overcommitted, over-programed, stressed and simply busy? In a university where the maxim is excelling inside and outside the classroom in a variety of pursuits with minimal effort, this obsession with engagement is self-destructive.
We spend so much time doing things from classes to extracurricular involvements that there is little time to simply sit and think, to internalize and process life around us or spend time with other people. When Duke’s message is a consistent mix of get involved in this organization, apply for this position or program or come to that event, it makes sense that we’re always running from one thing to another in a constant state of busyness and engagement, where every text message or email needs an immediate response and the next meeting on my calendar is in exactly 6.45 minutes.
That lifestyle is simply not sustainable.
At a certain point, our bodies and minds need the space to rejuvenate and be restored. If you work and play with all your energy and effort, then there’s little space to “be” and only time to “do.” When everyone is so engaged, there is little space to unplug. We don’t simply limit our ability to develop relationships as a result--we harm our own development and enjoyment of life.
I make these statements from personal experience as someone who has seen how a lifestyle of busyness can be draining. Admitting to myself that I something about my life was amiss and that I needed help was enough of a step, but it took nearly a month to finally act on that recognition. Being vulnerable, showing chinks within the armor, can be extremely difficult, but acknowledging those cracks opens the door to growing stronger and more resilient to the challenges of life ahead.
Our culture promotes action and accomplishment and relishes the concept of being busy and constantly engaged, but rarely gives us the opportunity to step back and think about what we really want out of our lives. In the constant pursuit of the resume line or prestigious accomplishment, we spend our days at Duke racing around to complete all these different tasks so that we can apply and be accepted into a career in which we race around and complete more tasks. All that busyness comes at a cost to our sense of self and the direction of our lives. We can all do what we love, but that simple truth does not mean forsaking all that we are to become all that we do.
I write about some of these experiences not because I want any sympathy or to warn younger students of the dangers of overcommitting to involvements. I could use this space to make a point about a topical issue. But I want this column to be about issues that matter to me and to this community. Engagement and busyness are products of life, but there has to be a middle ground somewhere between achieving and thriving.
I certainly do not have the answers, but I firmly believe that we can only come to them together when our community takes a moment to pause and enter a serious dialogue about mental health and busyness. Powerful social change is only possible when a conscious collective acknowledges the realities of our community and stands up to change them. My hope is that we can begin to deconstruct the fear of admitting a lack of perfection and openly discuss these issues. We can begin to acknowledge our vulnerabilities while still succeeding in life.
I know that my experience is not an anomaly. If you’re reading this, and you’re stressed or busy and aren’t sure what to do, know this—There is strength in vulnerability. You are not alone.
Jay Sullivan is a Trinity junior and the Editorial Page Managing Editor for Online. His column runs every other Monday.
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