Are you still there?

The question, prompted by my inactivity on Netflix, awakens a sense of restlessness. I’m cradling a box of cereal in one arm and a portfolio in the other, the pliable edges pressing into my palms. Physically present, but mentally absent. I press resume.

“If you’re out on the road, feeling lonely and so cold-"

The walls are lit by a flashing montage of northeastern foliage and laughing cast members.

I let the song overrule the disappointment in my mind. Hours earlier, I had spoken with a magazine mogul, hoping for encouragement and instead receiving discouragement. Rather than relenting to these negations, I turned to the truest form of therapy- “Gilmore Girls."

As a career type-A and a personal type-B, it is easy to get caught up in my own mind, but watching “Gilmore Girls” changes everything. The depth of hurt portrayed throughout the show is incomparable. From the public devastation exhibited by Paris following her rejection from Harvard, to Rory’s heartbreaking reaction to Mitchum Huntzberger’s final assessment of her capabilities, their relatability is endless. Through all of life’s unpredictability, the show remains a comforting constant.

While most of us haven’t been rejected from Harvard or humiliated on C-span, we’ve all had our moments of humiliation, some more public than others. The first time I watched the show, I was applying for summer internships. Late nights and countless applications later, I was beginning to feel just as cashed, if not more so, than Paris. In an industry where doubting is just as detrimental as failing, I refused to leave room for weakness. I misinterpreted. Witnessing Paris’s meltdown on C-span reminded me that strength leaves room for humanity. Plans are volatile, and what is broken is reparable, even if it’s in the most unconventional manner. In other words, what’s good on paper won’t necessarily translate into reality. We romanticize overexertion, but abhor its consequences. As the youngest daughter of a male-dominated household, I was raised to believe that emotion was the equivalent of weakness. Paris helped me forsake this notion. She planned for college, and I planned for post-grad. She chose Harvard and I chose sales. Neither of us achieved our original goals, but we both got something better- the ability to adapt.

Like Rory, I subjected myself to the mentorship of a professional like Mitchum, only to hear “I wasn’t fit for the industry." Instead of reacting, I let myself live vicariously through her irrational theft and momentary meltdown. Although it is a strange moment to pinpoint, I consider it the equivalent of learning through the mistakes of others. Remembering the consequences of her self-pity (namely, yacht theft and her time in jail) helped me get over mine.

Rory Gilmore taught me to stop asking why, and start asking how. How to be better. How to ask more of others. How to properly handle rejection, without letting my disappointment get the best of me. To hurt is human, but to rationalize is pointless. Whatever the situation, it is usually not personal. A person’s reaction is simply a reflection of who they are, and is a baseline that rarely changes based on interpersonal interactions. The best way to react to haters is to let your work speak for itself.

"Gilmore Girls," with all of its plot twists, helped me understand my problems are universal. In my mind, letting go is admitting I do not care. It is the opposite. As convoluted as it may seem, letting go is the most selfless thing you will ever do. It leaves room for living, and with that, space for something better.