by Olivia Conway, online editor

I ended the school year exhausted and overwhelmed after having struggled through AP classes, crippling self doubt, and what felt like years of testing. Unfortunately, my summer appeared to be just as busy as my school year with numerous summer programs that required hard work and energy, including a five-week long research program that started only days after I took my last final. I was excited for my new experiences and excited to do research, but I was resigned to the fact that I would be just as tired and sad as I had felt during the year. As the summer began, however, my sadness gradually slipped away like storm clouds receding after a storm and was replaced with a sensation of sunny warmth that I had feared I had forgotten.

Happiness was like an old friend: patiently waiting for me to return and accepting me as if nothing had ever changed. If sadness had appeared to me as gray fog that suffocated me in its cold grip, then happiness was my bright summer sun slicing through the fog and leaving me bathed in golden light. For the first time in months I felt excitement when before there had been merely apprehension. Everything seemed different, but it was the kind of different that I welcomed with open arms. Colors seemed brighter, the air felt warmer, I felt like I was overflowing with love and pure joy.

Happiness used to be as familiar to me as my own name. It was my dominant emotion, my defining characteristic. Sometime during the past year, though, I lost my sense of self. Every thought, every action was tinged with depression and anxiety. Every success gave me a few minutes of sunlight while every failure plunged me further into darkness. The doubt and paranoia and despair became overwhelming, spreading through every aspect of my life like dark ink. The person I became was tired and defeated. Dark shadows bloomed under my eyes and my face seemed permanently tear-stained and empty. I needed help, or some kind of drastic change, but I couldn’t stop my bad habits of not sleeping and allowing sadness to overwhelm me because my methods were working for other parts of my life. I succeeded in school despite never getting enough sleep and I was able to provide emotional support to my close friends despite being blinded by my veil of hopelessness. I sacrificed health, both mental and physical, in exchange for the other aspects of my life that meant more to me at the time.

Of course my methods were neither healthy nor sustainable and I would not recommend my particular path to anyone else, but I do not regret the choices I made. I had to focus and at the time the best option was to isolate myself from other people and activities. I lost friendships and forgot what to do with free time, but I emerged triumphant in the end. I survived my classes, survived my tests, and survived my sadness. Even though I do not regret these decisions, I was relieved to feel the warm embrace of happiness as the summer started.

My return to sunlight after months caught in fog was gradual: anxiety slowly released me from its grasp, my self confidence can now be measured in teaspoons rather than pinches. But this gradual returning of light to my life made me appreciate it even more. Happiness washed over me like waves against the shore, preventing me from being overwhelmed by such a dramatic emotional shift.

The transition was still jarring. My heart beat too quickly. I felt over caffeinated and jittery at first, but I learned to adapt just as I had learned to adapt to the bland sadness so many months before.

It’s possible that my newfound sunny disposition was simply a result of spending time in a research lab or getting to meet new people, but I am grateful either way. I feel more capable and optimistic and less likely to be consumed by anxiety. I have no way of knowing whether or not this happiness will last longer than the summer sunlight, but for now I am simply trying to enjoy it while it lasts. Also, even if my haze of sadness returns with the changing of the seasons, I am more prepared to manage my despair and hopelessness without sacrificing myself in the process. With happiness came some measure of confidence that I am strong enough to withstand even the most brutal seasons of sadness. It is completely possible that I will fall into the same emotional trench this year as I did last year, but I now know that it will not last forever and the bright rays of joy will return eventually. My memories of this summer of joy and love will hopefully be enough to protect me from getting lost in the same fog, but even if I do lose my way I know that I have people to guide me and enough warmth to wait for the heavy sadness to dissipate. I have found my own “invincible summer.”