I am not someone who cries. At least, not in front of other people. As a perfectionist, I try to maintain a veneer of put-togetherness, stability, and poise. Very few people outside of my family have ever seen me cry. Besides not showing when something is bothering me, I also really do not like to talk about when something is seriously bothering me. I do not like letting people know that everything is not as idyllic as it seems. I do not like burdening other people with my feelings. I do not want other people to worry about me, because I prefer to handle things on my own — furthermore, I can handle things on my own.

However, there comes a point when even I need to reach out for help. Even though I do always manage to get through things on my own, sometimes I feel so stressed and so overwhelmed that I just need to talk with someone who can lend some sympathy and maybe some advice for how to get through what I'm dealing with. Because the truth is, that veneer of composure is just that — a façade. A carefully crafted image of "everything is peachy keen" because for me, expressing happiness is always easier than expressing how I'm truly feeling.

It was early last week when I reached a breaking point. I had been going for a couple weeks on a caffeine-powered rollercoaster ride of stress and overwhelming amounts of reading, meetings, and rehearsals. It seemed that my obligations to meet with people and be here and there and running around campus all day suddenly went from zero to a hundred, real quick. I was consistently getting back to my room after midnight, after long, busy days that always left me utterly exhausted. I started to fall behind on work, because I literally had no free time during my days to start my work. I was so strapped for time that I had bought bread and peanut butter so that I could make sandwiches in my room for meals, because I could not afford not to work during any chance I got throughout the day.

The only considerable stretch of time I had free was once I got back to my room after midnight, when I was so exhausted that I would force myself to stay up a miserable two or three hours until finally I could no longer stare at my computer screen and went to sleep. I would wake up the next morning too late for a relaxing morning routine, because every extra minute of sleep was precious. I would rush through a shower, throw on some clothes, go to class with my wet hair in a bun, and go about another day. Wash, rinse, repeat.

During all this, I had kept telling myself "You'll be fine," "It's just a rough week, it will be better soon," and "There are people who have it much worse than you, calm down." I knew exactly how stressed and overwhelmed I was...but I would not let myself feel it. I refused to acknowledge how bad my situation was by giving into it and whining to my mom or a friend. But more importantly, I refused to allow myself to feel what I was feeling.

My emotional state during those two weeks was like an ice cube floating just under the surface of a glass of water: all the feelings were there, but they were merely beckoning at the surface. I would not let them surface, because a) I did not want to accept the fact that everything was not perfect, b) I did not want to accept the fact that I was in way over my head, and c) I did not want to have to deal with my feelings. Feelings are messy. Feigning happiness is so much easier, so much cleaner.

But early last week, I witnessed a good friend and fellow new member of my sorority cry during our weekly meeting. As she recounted her week, she talked about all the things that she had been dealing with, all the homework and obligations and personal issues she had been struggling with, that had all piled up to the point where she couldn't help but cry. I was sitting right next to her when she broke down. I put a consoling hand on her arm, and thought to myself, "I wish I could be so strong."

They tell you that the strongest people never cry. But that is not true. It is those who are the most insecure about their feelings who never let people see them cry. I would know; I am one of them.

It takes a strong person to be able to confront their feelings in such an emotional and cathartic way, especially in front of thirteen other people. Meanwhile, I wasn't even strong enough to admit my own feelings to myself. It was at that moment when I made the most important realization I could have made: my feelings are valid, and they are worth my acknowledgment. Suddenly, everything I had been denying that I was feeling brimmed over my carefully crafted surface of stability. I started crying — I couldn't help it. I held myself mostly together until I got back to my room — I still don't like other people to see me cry. But once I got back to my room, I sat down in my chair, curled my legs up into my arms, and bawled . I just let it all out. I finally allowed myself to feel everything that I had been dealing with for the past two weeks. I cried for a solid hour, and it felt great .

I had to learn the hard way how to allow myself the feelings I was having. It took being inspired by a friend's candid and uninhibited struggle for me to allow myself to feel what I was feeling.

I learned from this experience that although I may choose to hide from others what I am struggling with, I should never deny myself my own feelings. My feelings are valid, no matter how good my situation may be compared to others. My feelings are valid because I will only ever know my own experience. As my brother said when I reached out to him for help during my good cry (thanks, big bro), "the feelings you have aren't wrong or bad. You can't stop how you feel in the moment, so it's best to accept it and move on." From now on, I resolve to never deny myself the feelings that I have every right to feel - and you shouldn't either. Perhaps one of the most beautiful elements of the human condition is our ability to feel intensely and passionately. It would be a shame to go through life not experiencing the range of emotions that we have the capacity to feel. Life is an adventure created by the range of good, bad, neutral, happy, and sad experiences we will inevitably have. So laugh, scream, and yes, cry. You deserve it.