It was a gloomy September afternoon. I was lying on my couch while reading a book when my
parents entered my room with ashen looks on their faces. The atmosphere slowly dropped, and I
felt their aura surround the room woefully. I could make out that something was amiss. My
mother looked nervous, as though this was something she didn't want to tell me. My father tried
to keep his cool, but I could see he was just as distraught as her.
"Your mother has cancer," my dad murmured. What?
My body went numb, my hands were cold, and my heart raced. I put my book down immediately
and stared up in a daze. My senses weakened, and I didn't know what to feel. Nervousness?
Anxiousness? Astonishment? I couldn't think straight. I looked at my mom as she burst into
tears. I tried to think of the best way to console her, but it was futile. Something of this
magnitude had never hit me before, and it was frustrating to be of no help to the person I loved
the most.
As the weeks went by, my work-life balance began to fluctuate. My relationships slowly
declined, and the thought of isolation constantly resonated in my mind. I lost touch with who I
was, and regaining my old self seemed far from my reach. Amid this situation, the fact that my
midterms were right around the corner took a back seat in my mind. This is where stress came
into play. Every little detail tensed me out. Every question I got wrong led me to believe that I
had failed. Every ball I kicked out of bounds urged me to substitute myself. I was digging myself
into a pit I didn't know how to escape.
Although I had a group of tight-knit friends, breaking the news to them was difficult as opening
up was not something I was prone to often doing. Although it took guts, I decided to tell them
because I felt confiding in somebody brought a sense of comfort within me. The gloomy mood
set in immediately as I told them, but their embrace soon after ceased the negativity, and, at that
moment, I felt as though I was myself again.
"The little things matter," my mom used to say; as my friends consoled me, this statement echoed
in my head.
It struck me, I should’ve been doing more to let me, be me. These pent-up feelings had been lying
inside for too long. It racked up to a point where it hit the limit.
From that moment on, I revised my goals - trying to be the best, and appreciating the small
moments. Fixing relationships, especially the one with my mother, and focusing on interactions
with people - all the things I never paid attention to; which I now started doing. I started looking
at life from a different perspective. I couldn’t let this episode be the climax of my series.
Then, wouldn't this be a good way to live? To learn from the burdens, not let them outweigh you.
To incorporate self-limiting thoughts into your life, not let them discourage you. To be mindful
of the present, yet always looking ahead and staying positive.