Ellie P.
Photography by Mina Derebail
If you’re reading this, there is light on the other side.
For the better part of my sophomore year of college, I wanted to be invisible. That feeling lingered when an overwhelming weight fell on me as I stood in crowds of people that I used to enjoy being around. What unfortunately wasn’t invisible was the crutches I relied on and the big brace on my leg aptly provided when I left the hospital after knee surgery.
I found fulfillment through movement for the better part of my life – dancing around with my siblings in the kitchen, swimming with the fish in the ocean, and attempting to keep up with the neighborhood game of shootout were all activities that made my heart burst. Getting the news that not only was I barred from these activities for months, but that getting back to regularly participating in them would take blood, sweat and tears (literally) nearly broke me.
I have a very bubbly personality, usually finding myself exploding with energy and witty comments around almost everyone I interact with. But during this period of my life, being my true self was too hard around even the people I loved. I constantly wanted to be alone and forgotten. The reminders of the love people had for me was the only thing preventing me from following through with the thoughts that overwhelmed my mind. I figured if I contorted myself to be invisible then maybe my family, friends, and teammates wouldn’t care if I was alive or dead, and my pain would go away.
This logic was flawed, but my typically analytical self didn’t challenge it. The words of admiration from my loved ones made me hold onto what remained of my identity. They saved me. What made me turn the corner on my recovery, however, were the comments made to me by people I really didn’t know that well. It was all the little moments of kindness that other people actually remembered. I started to see the world around me a little more kindly, doing everything I could to make people around me feel seen. Slowly being able to go for walks and see grandparents, toddlers, and dogs mesmerized by the life around them brought me closer to peace. Getting the chance to move freely and fully is now a gift I will never take for granted again.
I am not embarrassed to compliment someone’s outfit, or start up a conversation with people in the elevator. Those little demonstrations of compassion lifted me out of a dark place, so the least I can do is offer that kind of empathy to the people around me. There are so many people silently idolizing you for all that you offer this world. Opening your heart and ears to those that cherish your overwhelmingly beautiful character can be the best antidote to a heavy heart. I love you. I am proud of you. And I see you. <3
Ellie P., Georgetown University
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