{"id":14740,"date":"2015-05-22T10:23:12","date_gmt":"2015-05-22T15:23:12","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/sites.imsa.edu\/acronym\/?p=14740"},"modified":"2015-05-22T10:23:12","modified_gmt":"2015-05-22T15:23:12","slug":"senior-speaks-in-pursuit-of-happiness","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sites.imsa.edu\/acronym\/2015\/05\/22\/senior-speaks-in-pursuit-of-happiness\/","title":{"rendered":"Senior Speaks: In Pursuit of Happiness"},"content":{"rendered":"

In our next installment of Seniors Speak, we have an anonymous submission that discusses\u00a0happiness. What does it mean? How do we find it? Where is it at IMSA?<\/em><\/p>\n

I\u2019ve never been very good at giving direct advice. And even if I did, I\u2019m sure that that advice probably wouldn\u2019t be universally applicable anyways. So, instead, I\u2019ll tell a story, and hope that you, the reader, may find something useful among the fragments of my experiences that I\u2019ll share with you:<\/p>\n

Part I.<\/p>\n

As I stared at the sheet of paper in front of me, my vision turned blurry. For a moment, I felt like I couldn\u2019t breathe. All those formulas that I\u2019d spent all of last night cramming had fled my mind and I was left picking at the pieces. The problems on the page were indecipherable black hieroglyphics on an expanse of white that I didn\u2019t have the knowledge to fill.<\/p>\n

Breathe<\/em>, I told myself. But I couldn\u2019t. And with my heart racing and my palms sweating, I scrambled to jot down anything that would make any sense at all on the page before time was called. Fifty-five minutes later, with my heart in my throat, I submitted my test knowing that I had failed.<\/p>\n

Soon, my anxiety spread. I couldn\u2019t fall asleep for hours. Instead, I lay in bed and held my fingers to my pulse, feeling the drumming against my fingertips. I would often feel light-headed continuously and I couldn\u2019t concentrate.<\/p>\n

During the next extended, I confided in my mother that I couldn\u2019t focus. Concerned, she took me to the doctor who recommended a blood test. A week later, I stared back at the negative results, deciding whether or not to beg the doctor to try the tests again. There had to be something that was wrong with me, or else I couldn\u2019t fix it.<\/p>\n

My physician recommended that I go see a therapist. I never did. Nor did I bring the matter up to my parents again. I told myself that if I pretended that everything was alright, I would eventually be.<\/p>\n

I think it\u2019s probably important to mention here that, probably like most people, I dislike showing weakness. I\u2019ve always had an obsession with perfection that manifested itself as superstitions when I was younger.<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t believe that IMSA was the impetus for my anxiety. Instead I share this story with you in the hope that you\u2019ll learn something from my experiences.<\/p>\n

Firstly, despite the larger awareness of mental illnesses in the IMSA community in recent years, there remains the idea that these illnesses are the fault of the afflicted. And there is also a common stigma that mental illnesses equate to personal weakness. It\u2019s taken me a long time to learn that they are neither. And for anyone who may suffer from anxiety or depression in the present or future in any sort of form, I wanted to let you know that you\u2019re not alone and that you\u2019re not a weaker person for it.<\/p>\n

Secondly, on a related note, there\u2019s a toxic idea at IMSA that intelligence and diligence are mutually exclusive. \u201cGods\u201d are people who are both brilliant and don\u2019t try. It\u2019s cool to do well and to get good grades. It\u2019s not cool to try. I\u2019ve been guilty of promoting the same idea: protesting when accused of working too hard, comparing how much time I’ve spent on assignments. I\u2019d like to point out here that every single person attending this school is intelligent. And spending a few more hours on homework than the next person doesn\u2019t make you stupider than them. Don\u2019t compare yourself to others and don\u2019t be ashamed of working hard. It will get you further in the future.<\/p>\n

Part II.<\/p>\n

If I had to narrow down all of my future goals into a single word, it would probably be happiness. I\u2019m guessing that most of yours probably would too.<\/p>\n

And although I\u2019ve realized that happiness is a mindset, I know that it can be hard to be happy in a world filled with seemingly never-ending homework and extracurriculars. And I can\u2019t say that I\u2019ve always been happy at IMSA\u2014both you and I know I\u2019d be blatantly lying. And I can\u2019t say that I can really teach you how to always be happy, seeing that I haven\u2019t figured it out myself yet. But I\u2019d like to speak briefly on what IMSA has taught me.<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t think I have very many talents, but I do believe that I have a pretty good memory. I sometimes like to look back through my stores of memories and find reasons for how I am the way I am today in a strange Freudian sense.<\/p>\n

I remember a day when I was seven. I was sitting in the backseat of my mom\u2019s car coming back from swimming practice and I asked her why I did so many activities. Why couldn\u2019t I just play around outside and go on endless play dates? We pulled into the driveway and she turned to me and told me that she wanted me to be \u201cgood at everything.\u201d And, as I hadn\u2019t learned how to make my own goals yet, I decided that I had to be perfect.<\/p>\n

As I grew older, I found the need to be involved in everything. Especially junior year, when everything seemed like a competition, when I heard about the accomplishments of others, it was easy to wonder if I should be doing the same. It was even easier to put myself down. Even today, it\u2019s hard for me to not think of life as a contest. I also believe that IMSA has changed me the most in teaching me how to be happy for others. As I clicked the log in button to my applications on April 1st<\/sup> while checking my phone, I realized that I wasn\u2019t praying that I\u2019d get in. Rather, I was desperately hoping that my friends would message me with their good news. I think that was when I realized that somewhere in the spaces between cramming history research papers and club applications during the past three years, I had actually grown.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s hard to believe that there is only one week left.<\/p>\n

And although the year hasn\u2019t ended yet, even though I proclaim to everyone that I\u2019m \u201cready to move on\u201d, I\u2019ve been wallowing in a quiet feeling of nostalgia. As I scroll through posts on my Facebook newsfeed, it\u2019s hard to believe that in a few months, it\u2019ll be filled with new faces, new names. A few more months and most of these people will become strangers.<\/p>\n

The memory is a funny thing. In the coming months, as our inboxes fill with emails not from student-ls and we stop checking IVC, we\u2019ll close more of those memories that we\u2019ve made over the past three years.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d like to think that there\u2019s not a lot that I regret about IMSA. But I know that the things that I remember will be the little things, the crazy things, and the possibly-stupid things. The memorable things.<\/p>\n

In a fit of perhaps unconscious desperation, I think I\u2019ve been trying to stuff my life with as many memories as possible before the inevitable deadline. Perhaps that\u2019s what senioritis really is; we\u2019re giving up some things in order to prioritize others, trying to fit in as many lasts as possible before the end.<\/p>\n

And, as I sit and talk with my friends, wasting away a Friday night, I close my eyes and try to preserve the moment in my mind forever because in that I moment I think maybe I have found out what it is to be happy.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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