You Never Have to Face it Alone: A Lesson I Learned In Spite of Myself

This morning I took some time after I awoke to sit quietly with my thoughts, read my daily devotional and the accompanying Scripture. Sometimes I struggle with the words and how to relate them to my experiences. Other times, like this morning, the words were just what I needed.

I consider myself to be self-reliant, independent, and self-sufficient. While these are good qualities to have, especially as a young, single woman living on her own in NYC, they can become burdensome. There have been times in my life when I've sacrificed my own well-being in order to uphold this "ideal" of myself that I created in my own head. This "ideal" Hilary was characterized by her ability to put her nose to grindstone and get it done. This Hilary didn't need to reach out to others for everything because she had it all figured out. For this Hilary, failure was not an option.

A few years ago, I decided that I would apply to graduate programs in Cultural Anthropology. Why? Well, because I studied anthropology as an undergrad, I enjoyed it and did well, and I figured it was the only subject that I "knew" well enough to warrant the pursuit of an advanced degree. I never stopped to ask myself if this was what I really wanted, if this degree would enrich my life, and how I would use this degree to further my career. It was like I was on auto-pilot, and all I knew was that it was "time" to enroll in graduate school because that is what young people of my generation do; I never stopped to think that perhaps my path could sway from the traditional. And, really, what did I know about the "traditional" path anyway? 

I buried these nagging questions deep in the recesses of my mind, and pushed forward. I applied to and was accepted into Columbia's program (Woo! Ivy League!), and even though tuition would be a burden and I would have to borrow money, I dove in. I didn't want to let this opportunity pass me by, nor did I want to divert from this course I was on. Of course I had reservations, but my stubbornness made the loudest noise in my head and drowned out all the doubt. It wasn't until much later that I realized that those muted noises I refused to hear were a cry for help.

I enrolled and started school part-time, since I planned to continue working. I went through the motions: I went to class, did my assignments, studied, and spent time in the library. It felt familiar in a sense, but foreign at the same time. I recall thinking that all my fellow classmates seemed so sure of what they were doing there, and I was a leaf, floating in the breeze, unsure of where I was supposed to end up. I felt disconnected, out of place, insecure, and confused. After all, wasn't this the right course? What about the conventions and expectations that I clung so tightly to? Could it be that I had acted preemptively? Is this really where I was supposed to be?

Again, I buried my doubts. I muddled through, although my dissatisfaction was getting harder and harder for me to ignore. The idea that I may have made a big mistake frightened me so much that I could barely stand to talk about school with those closest to me. I changed the subject when it came up in conversations, and when I couldn't ignore the subject, I stopped reaching out all together. I became so insular that I offended my closest friends. I felt guilty about cutting people out of my life, but the fear of what might happen if I poured my heart out about how I was truly feeling was too intense. To guard against the pain, I practiced being numb. And fortuitously, it worked...until it no longer did.

Everything came to a head the summer of 2011. On two occasions, I was hospitalized for extreme stomach pain which doctors diagnosed as an ulcer. A stress-induced ulcer. After my second hospitalization during a family vacation, I had an epiphany. I tearfully told my family that I was miserable and decided to quit school. Despite the residual physical pain I felt, my soul felt more free than it had in months. I had the support of my family, and I knew that the worst was behind me. Accepting the truth and speaking it aloud had tremendous healing powers.

This whole experience shifted my perspective about what it means to be strong, independent, and self-sufficient. It made me realize that we are strongest when we put our faith in others that they will buoy us and keep us afloat. The people who care about us want us to reach out: they want us to confide in them, rely on them, and put our trust in them. They want to help us bear our burdens, and remind us that we are not alone. I may have learned this lesson the hard way, but at least I learned it. Whether you believe in God, Allah, Buddha, some other spiritual being, or humankind: don't fool yourself into thinking that you can get through this life alone. I encourage you to just put out your hand and allow someone or something help you through. You are never, ever truly alone!