Anonymous

Photography by Aneesa Wermers

If you’re reading this, sometimes walking away is the strongest thing you can do.

I love to sing. As a child, I would sing everywhere—in grocery stores, in restaurants, in my grandparents’ front yard. Music brought me endless joy. 

When I came to college, my only goal was to find an a cappella group that would create a community where I could sing without restraint– a place where I could feel safe and pursue my passion. I wanted a community of song.

And I eventually found that community. It was beautiful. I found new friends, I found comfort, I found love. It was my place on campus.

It was beautiful, until it wasn’t.

My safe place was shattered. I shed so many tears over this club– something that I was doing purely for fun. I felt tense all of the time, I felt like I wasn’t enough, I felt like I was walking on a tightrope fifty feet in the air. I love singing, but it was making me miserable. 

I did not want to leave. I had dedicated so much time to this group of people, but it was becoming more of a chore to sing. Butting heads with people, feeling disrespected, and struggling with my own mental health: the emotional toll was too much to bear. The joy had seeped out of my voice.

It took me ages to consider my own feelings. I did not want to give up on something I used to love or the people I still love. But I had to go. It was time. It broke my heart, but I feel more free now. I find myself singing again when I am alone. I am finding my love for it again. I am putting my mental health first. 

Sometimes walking away hurts, but staying put hurts more.

If you’re reading this, leaving is hard, but you deserve more.

Anonymous, Boston College