“If you are going through a hard time because your boyfriend broke up with you the week before the exam, email me and we will work something out.”
The closest admission I have heard across my four years at Notre Dame that life really does happen outside of the classroom is a singular expression of solidarity from a professor at the start of the semester.
In many ways, it is fair to expect students to soldier on through the hardships of life; the time keeps passing, and the “real world” stops for no one’s mourning. Or does it?
During my four years at college, I have shouldered my fair share of grief — the death of a friend, the passing of both of my family dogs, heartbreak, friendship breakups, you name it — and the world does seem to slow down. Assignments take the back seat to time at the Grotto, dining hall dinners linger longer, lake walks with friends become necessary for coping. And yet, missing class for anything less than a hospitalization is strongly frowned upon. Believe me when I say I am in no way an advocate for skipping class unnecessarily. I mean someone is paying a lot of money for you to sit in DeBart 101. However, I cannot help but to think maybe we should not push suffering under the rug in favor of academic success.
As evidenced by the seemingly perpetual waitlist for a therapy appointment at the UCC during the spring semester (I have been waiting four weeks), many students are suffering alone. While calling your hometown best friend may feel like a substitute for proper therapy, I strongly encourage you to begin to take more steps toward navigating whichever hardship had you in “Drop In Counseling” to begin with (until we can get off the waiting list, of course).
My unwarranted and unlicensed advice for how to navigate the never-ending list of stressors and things that go wrong on campus? Let yourself cry about it. Now I know that sounds like surface-level advice, but hear me out. Whether experiencing a failed exam, first heartbreak or severe homesickness, spending time listening to Adele’s “Hold On” while lying on the floor of your bedroom and hoping your roommate doesn’t walk in is a valid coping mechanism. Now this next step is very important, so throw on your reading glasses and come close. Grab your favorite snack from the Huddle (I am partial to Ben and Jerry’s and/or pickles), throw on your comfiest sweatpants that I do not encourage you to wear to NDH and turn on the first movie on your “to watch” list that you never got to. Bonus points if you had no clue it was sad (no one told me what “Dead Poets Society” was really about). Then and only then are you ready to begin the healing process.
After you complete night one, the healing journey truly becomes a “choose your adventure” game. The sun will come up earlier than you would like. You will immediately remember whatever made you cry on your floor and school will be right there waiting for you to come back. However, there are a few things that I suggest you don’t do at this time.
1. Go on Instagram reels as soon as you wake up. This has never set anyone up for success, perhaps ever.
2. Let your laundry pile up. It only gets more daunting the more socks you add to the pile, so show yourself an act of kindness and fold it as soon as it’s done.
3. Drink your feelings. See reasoning for point one.
4. Isolate yourself from your friends. Leaning into the support systems around us is the best way to pull yourself toward your new normal. Schedule frequent coffee breaks, lunches and gym dates to give yourself something to look forward to.
At the end of the day, the world will keep turning and school will continue, but your experiences outside of the classroom are what life is all about. So while the “real world” may not stop for grief, it is safe to say that your world might.
Mia Drake is a copy editor for Opinion studying neuroscience and behavior and classics. She calls Gilbert, Arizona home. When not watching the Chicago Bears, she can be found reminiscing on the Swig and Dutch Bros drive-thrus or listening to Usher. You can contact Mia at mdrake3@nd.edu.
