I share my struggles.
I grew up thinking that sharing my struggles was burdensome—my problems were mine to deal with and mine to work through.
Whenever I encountered a challenge at school or amongst friends, I did my best to solve it on my own. For some reason, I saw sharing my struggles as complaining and the last thing I wanted to do was complain. As the daughter of a single immigrant mother who escaped poverty and domestic violence, my complaints simply didn’t feel warranted. This sentiment didn’t come from anything anyone actually said to me. Nobody explicitly turned to me and said, “Hey, Jen. There are bigger problems in life! Don’t ever complain about your life because people have bigger issues to solve!” I mean, who says that to a kid, right? Yet, somehow, I felt that way.
All this to say that I went through elementary school, middle school, and high school tackling challenge after challenge on my own. I was a good student and this made people assume I didn’t struggle. Straight-A student, PCA Scholar, Scripps Scholar, LEDA Scholar, Warren Christopher Scholar, Gates Millennium Scholar, Student Body President surely had it all figured out, right? Wrong. In middle school, for example, I had trouble coping with my father’s imprisonment. Even though I didn’t grow up with him, knowing he was in jail for many years really hurt me. In high school, I was in a toxic long-term relationship. I also became aware of my family’s “mixed” legal status. I grappled with these and other issues while striving to do my best in school. Only a couple of teachers and mentors knew about any of it, and it’s only because they went out of their way to check in with me and genuinely ask, “Hey, Jen, how are you, really?”
One of these mentors consistently reached out, especially when I started at Princeton. I shared my struggles with her because she took time to ask me how everything was going. I could tell her questions came from a place of care. She helped me realize that I couldn’t (and shouldn’t) tackle every problem on my own. I had to learn to reach out and, if I needed it, ask for help. If I wanted to succeed at a rigorous place like Princeton, for instance, I couldn’t just sweep my first C under a rug and expect to do better next time. I had to reach out to my professor or academic advisor for help. I had to be okay with sharing my struggles.
It is not easy. I am still learning how to be okay with sharing my struggles. During the first year of my PhD program at Harvard, I shared my struggles with peers who either exaggerated or dismissed my difficulties. Now, I not only have to work through my instinct to solve everything on my own but also my ability to trust others. Trust plays a major part in our ability to share our struggles. Depending on who you open up to, it’s totally fair to assume that you could be putting yourself at risk of ridicule or apathy. I know that it’s hard to trust others with our struggles. Still, I believe that if we share our struggles with someone who loves us, with someone we really trust, it can make all the difference.
Don’t see sharing your struggles as complaining. See it as acknowledging that things can and should be better. See it as actively working towards that vision of a better life.
Challenge: Share a struggle with someone you trust. Tell them how you feel and let them know whether or not you want their help. Reaching out can be simple. Ask them to hold space for you over a cup of tea or ask for a big hug.
Alternatively, if you have the energy and capacity to do so, reach out to someone you care about and ask them how they’re really doing. Be willing to offer your support if they share a struggle or simply let them know they can count on you.
It is a true blessing to know that people who care about you will share their sunshine until you can feel your own.
Con cariño,
Jenesis
