With Hardship, Comes Ease

Unsinkable Storyteller: S.M.

I remember walking home from school in grade 11, wondering what the point of trying to figure out the rest of my life would be if I wasn’t planning to be around for it. It seems like so much work, trying to maintain my grades, be involved in projects outside of schools, trying to have a social life. Showering regularly. Eating on time. Sleeping enough. So. Much. Work.

It felt so difficult to understand the one word question. “Why?” When there is the choice to do nothing? I couldn’t parse through a reason that satisfied my doubts at the time. I felt so frustrated with trying to stay on top of things. I applied to university programs not knowing whether I’d make it to graduation. I didn’t feel in control of my life. How did people do it so easily?

I moved out, no longer having the people who kept my head above water within an arms reach. I was nervous but I tried not to show it. Maybe the root of all my problems was the lack of change… I hoped for some convenient all-encompassing reason that would explain everything and could be fixed in an instant. However, within those first couple weeks of being somewhere new, the overwhelming feelings and uncertainty returned.

I need to get a job to finance my education. I need to be involved in clubs so I have experiences that make me more competitive. I need to make friends so I don’t fall behind. I need to figure out how to study! When I took exams I struggled. I understood the content and worked hard to learn it but I felt so anxious about the time ticking down that I couldn’t perform. The noises others described as “quiet” or “in the background” felt unbearably loud.

It got to a point where I was stuck, undecided between going to classes or my shifts, club meetings or hangouts with friends. It felt easier to not have to choose. I could just stay in my room and not make a decision at all.

One of my roommates noticed that I didn’t come out much and my food was going untouched in the fridge. She knocked on my door, gently asking to come in and whether I wanted to go on a walk. I obliged, wanting to please and worried about the impression I’d leave if I declined. Little did I know this conversation would change the trajectory of my adolescence.

“First year feels so weird,” my roommate said, staring straight ahead as we walked side by side. “I just feel like I want to go home. I don’t get how people know what’s going on. I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.”

This caught my attention. Was there someone else who felt the same way I did? “I was just thinking the exact same thing,” I responded. The floodgates spilled open all of a sudden, my emotions splayed across each sentence I spoke. I don’t know what I’m doing with my life. I have no idea why I chose to pursue Life Sciences. I miss my sisters and I hate that I can’t find them down the hall anymore. Does anything really interest me at all? Everything seems so hard.

“I’m not sure about all these other things… but have you ever considered seeing if you’re eligible for academic accommodations? It’s something I’ve been meaning to look into myself.”

… What is that? I thought. This was never something I really faced before. I didn't think this was really something that applied to me, but I didn’t really get what it meant to be accommodated to begin with. With the help of my roommate-turned-friend, I met with my school’s physician. I got a diagnosis, accommodations, and some strategies I could use when the sinking feeling returned. I was told that for the time being, it may be best to step away from the unessential extracurricular activities and to focus on the tasks right in front of me. When I was ready, I would be encouraged to try answering the question of why I picked the program I did by really trying to engage in my classes, by trying activities outside of my comfort zone and experiences unrelated to my degree, and to see what fuels me at the end of the day.

Although all this felt daunting, I had a new friend and professional support by my side that reassured me of some direction going forward. I also learned that asking questions doesn’t hurt, that there may be someone else wondering the same thing and that by speaking up you can help someone feel heard.

When I wrote my next exam I was in accommodated seating, got ear plugs and was able to focus on responding without the fear that time would slip away from me. I found myself performing much better. I realized I didn’t hate science, I just didn’t enjoy my initial situation. I actually quite enjoyed dissecting how the world worked and what physically keeps our bodies going.

Through the university job I picked up, I spoke to my manager about capacity and we were able to start a project relating to student evaluations and researching teaching, something else I didn’t know was an option at first. I learned that I love mentorship, paving the path for people who were once confused in my shoes, sharing an authentic experience people feel they can connect with, and how representation matters when there’s no one in the field that looks or sounds like you.

Now that I felt like I could take on more, I tried all sorts of things. Public speaking, cycling across the city, business pitches, touring Canada, reviewing resumes, going on road trips, filming advice clips. I caught a grasp of what I liked and what I didn’t. Soon it felt like there were too many items in the bucket of things I liked.

“The cool thing is, you don’t have to choose. There’s ways to couple things together into a path you love,” said my counsellor. And it didn’t seem so obvious at first, but she was right. I could marry my keenness for science with problem solving, leadership, and advocacy. I could mold them together into a path to care for others, and try to guide others. I could help others employ those same skills I used to feel okay when I thought I wasn’t.

Although I wasn’t fully certain of what that might look like, I knew there were ways to fulfill this goal on different scales. If I helped a friend of mine prepare for an interview, articulated why there was a necessity for an equity document in a policy, gave a stranger directions, or developed resources to help others work through the same steps I did, it could make a difference. My why didn’t have to be this big one-size-fits-all solution. My why could be found in the mundane, everyday parts of life. It could be a smile. A breath of fresh air. Some rest despite the chaos. The holding of hands.

Verily with hardship, comes ease, I realized. I could take on challenges or tricky times because it would make the reward all the more satisfying. I could be there for myself, that way I could be there for others too. I strive to take the steps forward for the future me and the future of the greater good.