For the past eight months, every social media post by my peers made my stomach drop.Insecurity seeped into my mind, drowning reassurance of any form as I imagined everyone was having the time of their lives.I spent six weeks nibbling peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and downing 4-oz bottles of grape juice in an eating disorder treatment center, while my peers took rigorous courses, downed bottles of beer, and navigated their way through Baltimore.I felt forgotten—disposable.This was one of the biggest challenges for me: taking a year off while watching my friends move on.
Even after the semester ended and my peers returned home, my Instagram newsfeed was filled with “best friend appreciation” posts, memories, and countdowns to move-in day.My return to school was still ambiguous; I had to receive clearance from my therapist stating that I was well enough to go back.Seeing my classmates constantly post about how excited they were for the upcoming year left me feeling isolated, nervous, and disheartened that I may never return.At one point, I went on a social media hiatus, where I would only check my accounts for notifications and I occasionally posted, but I never flicked through my newsfeed so that I would not have to see what everyone else was doing.
I did not receive the letter allowing me to go back until June.After months of anxiously waiting, dreading that every email and phone call would confirm my fears that I would not be returning, I finally had some good news.
I soon learned, however, that there were still many arrangements that I had to make.For instance, I had to contact housing because most students completed their housing application during the spring semester. I also had to contact Academic Advising to receive permission to register for classes in addition to finding an off-campus therapist and transportation. I sent multiple emails a day and called dozens of people in order to get all of support and resources I needed for my return.Not everyone returned my calls and emails, which triggered my anxiety.I worried that I would never go to college again.
It took every ounce of energy, hours of Netflix, hundreds of journal entries, and a solid support system to shift my focus off of what was out of my control and onto my health and happiness.My happiness is not as lofty as it sounds; most of the time it involves hot chocolate, making mac and cheese at my best friend’s house, or hanging out with my dogs and cats.Sometimes I felt unaccomplished, but I kept going in the hope of a better tomorrow
My time spent on medical leave was the longest few months of my life, yet the most important.I learned how privileged I am to have the opportunity to go to school and spend time with friends.More importantly, though, I learned that my well-being comes before everything, even school.
