Kena R.
Photography by Ally Szabo
Please note: In this letter, there is mention of self-harm If you think you may find this content triggering, please consider reading one of the other letters of IfYoureReadingThis.org, or prepare to access any support systems or resources you find helpful.
If you’re reading this, find something to pour your heart into.
And I mean truly, fully. For me, that thing is singing, but yours can be literally anything that makes you happy and breathes life into your soul. Sports, writing, arts, sciences, friends, family… opportunities for heartfelt activity are endless and constantly surrounding you.
Music helps me cope and work through tough transitions in my life. I suffer from depression and, sure, I pray and do self-care to combat these feelings and help stabilize me, but these methods have never done the trick like music has.
In high school I used to be known for my voice, but in college I didn’t want to be pegged as a theater or choir kid. So I did the logical thing any insecure 18-year-old would do: I quit. Mind you, I’d been involved with music from a young age, a classically trained vocal musician with direction and purpose. Music breathed life into me as easily as I took breaths during rests in my operettas.
I got into a bit of a funk during COVID, as I’m sure most musicians can relate. The culmination of my hard work led to… nothing. Isolation. No final performance. No final bow. I felt incredibly discouraged. I lost my love and passion for music. I decided that in college, I was not going to let music define me as a person, and therefore I was not going to participate in any musical groups on campus.
Last year I began my Villanova journey. I was a freshman living in Stanford with no idea what awaited her, for better or for worse. I made shallow friends, I went out, and I lost sight of myself.
As most transition periods go without a method of self-expression, last February I fell into the deepest, most earth-shattering depressive episode I’ve ever experienced. I didn’t leave my bed for a full two days, (you can ask my roommate). I didn’t know how to cope with thoughts of self-harm or how to stop it from happening. My roommate ended up helping me get out of bed, but the question was how to stay out of bed.
The first weeks were hard after that. I lost focus, I couldn’t stay awake during the day, and I couldn’t put my best foot forward academically. I actually struggled through that funk all the way into summer vacation, I just didn’t tell anyone because I felt like a huge burden. So I pretended, as all actresses can do, to be as happy as I could, just until I got out of that final exam and I could finally leave.
I hated Villanova. Sometimes I still want to transfer. It gets so stifling here sometimes without a creative outlet, and no one talks about it. Passing “joke-not-jokes” here and there about how “I hate it here!” are pretty standard with the people I know. But I have a working theory: those people should totally find their own creative outlets to pour those feelings into with similarly gifted people. That’s the best stress relief of all.
This summer, I realized that music was my missing ingredient. My family all agreed with me; they’d not been surprised at all by my depressive episode without music in my life. I decided to audition for an a cappella group this year to exercise my passion for small choral music. Though a cappella is admittedly not the genre of music I’d been trained in, I gave it a shot. I rehearsed in practice rooms for weeks, and… I didn’t get in. I was crushed not receiving word that night. But those wonderful (seriously, amazing) groups holding auditions helped me to realize something; music doesn’t need to be in a group setting to impact you. I found stress relief these first few weeks through singing in practice rooms by myself, with my roommate, and with a new friend I met at auditions.
So, Nova, if you’re reading this, know I’m better. Know that I’m working through depression literally as I write this, and as per the disorder, I will always struggle with it. But I need you to know most of all that pouring your soul into something you’re passionate about can very well save your life. It saved mine.
[Author Name], Villanova University
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