It took me a week to write this, not because I forgot/procrastinated (at least not this time), but because I genuinely had no idea what to say. Dr. Hill’s Rose Cafe left me speechless. It felt like my brain was buzzing with a million thoughts, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on anything specific. I immediately texted my partner saying, “I’m freaking out. I’m fine. It’s fine. It’s not bad, but oh my god I’m freaking out.” I was not very coherent then and I’m not sure I’ll be able to be very coherent now, but we’ll see. Ze Frank made a video in 2012 called “Crushing Words” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xJ9e32MNEOk) that sums how I was feeling after the cafe well. Pretty much everything that Dr. Hill said that night has been added to my list of crushing words, including his challenge to write about what gives our lives here meaning.

This prompt was crushing for me because, truth be told, most of my time at Cornell I have not been able to answer this prompt. Like so many others, when I started college I hit a wall of depression and anxiety unlike anything I had experienced previously. Without the tools or prior experience to handle mental health challenges, their effects were crippling at times. My first year it mostly affected my social life. There were times I quite literally hid in my room from the people I had begun to make friendships with. The dining hall was my nightmare and I skipped meals to avoid seeing people. I would even go to a different floor of my dorm to use the restroom. But even though my social life was mostly nonexistent, I held desperately on to my academics and finished my first year well academically. This year however, I have found that even though my social life is improving, my mental health now affects my academic performance. I did not finish last semester strongly and was very nearly placed on leave this semester. Though I was determined that this semester would be better, I’ve had a pretty rocky start. There are times when I can’t get out of bed at all. I’ve gone without eating for days. More than once I have wanted nothing more than to pack up my room and go home. The bottom line is that most of my time at Cornell has been spent feeling inadequate, be it socially or academically. I am also acutely aware that mine is not a unique experience. I outline my struggles here not because I feel that nobody would understand, but because I feel that all too many people understand all too well and I think it is vital that this becomes an open, authentic dialogue not limited to mental health awareness events on campus (which always feel forced to me personally). So, given that context for my time at Cornell, how the hell do I find meaning here?

In many ways, I’m still trying to find the answer to that question. I’m getting help for my mental health issues and learning how to prioritize myself above the self I think I am expected to be. I’m trying to get back into the things that made me happy before life got in the way, like art and writing. I’m learning that no aced prelim or highly praised essay is going to make my soul full and that a getting a B or even *gasp* a C in a course is a small price to pay for my personal health and happiness. I’m learning to extend to myself the same patience and kindness that I try to give others. I say learning because I haven’t figured it out yet. I suppose what keeps me searching for and creating meaning here, what keeps me “keeping on” as Dr. Hill would say, is that even though it feels like depression and anxiety have stripped me of everything that I thought made me me, it has not been able to touch one thing. I am sure with every fiber of my being that life is beautiful. I know in my heart of hearts that I love life and that creating meaning for one’s own life is the greatest way to express that love. I don’t always love my life. Far from it. I think it is more than fair to say that for the past several months my life has been really, really ugly and I know that those ugly bits make it hard to create meaning. But I fight that ugliness because I know that a beautiful life is worth fighting for. I search for meaning because I know that my life is meaningful, even if I lose sight of that sometimes. I keep on loving life even when I hate mine because goddammit life can be a crazy bitch sometimes, but boy is it breathtaking when you really stop and think about it.