If you’re reading this, your mind is beautiful.
And perhaps, like me, it is simultaneously the most chaotic place you’ve ever been in. A partner in crime, but also sometimes a partner in misery.
For the longest time, I thought my mind was broken. At the age of fifteen, in my sophomore year of high school, I was forced to see a therapist because the manifestations of my anxiety were starting to become noticeably unhealthy. I was confused by people’s newfound concern; the sleepless nights, intense emotions, and rampant self-criticism were just as familiar to me as the legs that walked me to class each morning. I had spent most of my childhood waiting for the proverbial “other shoe” to drop- my first therapy appointment felt like just that.
It has been a little under four years since I started what I thought was a process to mend my broken mind. Many times in these past four years, I felt like I was banging my head against the same wall, taking the emotional route instead of the rational one, and consistently making the same mistakes that I promised myself I would never make again. And yet, despite it all, I keep showing up to therapy: an act of self-love and acceptance.
Even though my mental health journey has been far from linear, I’ve learned that the way we talk to ourselves contributes greatly to how we feel about ourselves. For me, that means letting go of this idea that my mind is broken. Instead of seeing my mind as something that inherently needs fixing, I am starting to see it as a beautifully complicated puzzle.
Sometimes the puzzle pieces don’t fit because they are not in the right place, but that doesn’t mean they don’t belong. Rather, each piece, each setback, and each realization plays an important role in creating the bigger and beautiful picture: who we are as unique and loveable individuals.
Simply put, our minds are not broken because we struggle; rather our minds are amazing because they can work through struggle and turn it into a narrative with depth and meaning.
Piece by piece we have the power to rewrite the stories we tell ourselves about our lives.
We have the power to talk to ourselves in ways that are fair and compassionate.
We have the power to build ourselves up rather than break ourselves down.
My struggles have undoubtedly taught me more than my successes ever could have. And while enduring them in the moment can be rather excruciating, knowing that there will always be light at the end of the tunnel gives me hope that one day my words will help someone who, just like me, might need a little help putting the pieces together and recognizing the beauty of their own mind.
As Duke’s chapter founder of IfYou’reReadingThis, I hope the ensuing letters empower you to recognize and celebrate your beautiful mind.
Anjali K., Duke University
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