What do I do when everything hits at the same time?
College can at times seem a Sisyphean undertaking.
Sisyphus is a figure in Greek mythology who, after committing a series of transgressions against the gods, was condemned to push a massive boulder up a mountain for eternity, resting only as his stone hurtles down the other side, where he must begin again. The myth of Sisyphus is similar to the way things feel for students during the last few weeks of the semester.
A new semester begins, and we spend four weeks studying for exams on which we may or may not succeed, and afterward we must do it again, and twice more. Then another semester begins...
There are sources of encouragement along the way — good grades, refreshing breaks, moments of enlightenment — and these are typically enough to spur one on; but sometimes it all feels excessive, a waste even.
I and most of you, I’m sure, have too often received the vague, trite reassurance that “it will all be worth it one day,” that our persistence will bring forth a comfortable future. Maybe it will. But on the rare occasions when my schedule clears, and I can go on a walk and experience the world around me, free from any nagging sense of urgency, I start to wonder if that's what I want. It makes me nauseous to consider all the experience I’ve given up to learn minute details about a subject I’ll never encounter again.
Other times, however, I’ll look back on my chemical engineering curriculum or have the opportunity to use it in my daily life, and its allure will capture me once more. I chose this field because I wanted to understand how things work and, more importantly, because I wanted to solve meaningful problems.
At the busiest points of each semester, it often seems as though I’ve learned nothing, as though there is more information than I can possibly cram into my head. Strong exam scores provide little consolation, since anyone can fake their way through a subject or get lucky.
Then comes Christmas or summer break, over which I can finally reflect on my progress. In these instances, I usually notice that the hazy, jumbled mass of information I once crammed into my head has somehow ironed itself out. I am a much better engineer than I was.
This revelation is what sustains me: in my case, it really will be worth it one day.
When “everything hits at the same time” and there is no indication of it easing off, we all need a similar sort of inspiration to fall back on. It doesn’t have to be passion for what you’re studying; in fact, you could detest your coursework and still experience the same motivation. What matters is that you are working toward some sense of fulfillment.
Perhaps you’re a pre-vet student, forced to study organic chemistry despite finding it loathsome. The course itself might prove pointless in the future, but passing it carries you closer to vet school and, beyond that, to your ideal career. With this in mind, you’ll have a reason to persevere through the worst of it.
Even if you are unsure of what you wish to do with your degree, you can still find reason for pursuing it. Maybe it will lead to desirable job prospects, or maybe you simply love it. Whatever the case, as long as there is a visible path to self-actualization, there is by definition an impetus to follow it.
For many, nevertheless, this sense of purpose is elusive. Through my first two years at Auburn I was entirely directionless, and I stumbled into my current circumstances by luck, a perfect coincidence in my academic and personal life.
Most aren’t so fortunate, and to those struggling I can recommend only that you continue to search for meaning, and that along the way you take care to locate beauty in the insignificant: in the first breath of sharp air which meets you as you step outside each morning; in the kind driver who offers you an awkward smile while you cross the street; in the dozens of well-meaning people who accost you on the concourse, undeterred by your desperate effort to avoid eye contact.
Once you realize how prevalent such instances are, you become a little less resentful, a little more passionate and a little quicker to show gratitude despite all of life’s attempts to engender the contrary.
One of my favorite writers, Albert Camus, in his philosophical essay The Myth of Sisyphus, uses this subject to represent the human condition at its most extreme. In the work’s conclusion, Camus offers a remedy for those who lack hope, for those who feel directionless in an ostensibly absurd world: “One must imagine Sisyphus happy.”
That is, if we can find a way to extract meaning from the most dreadful, futile scenarios imaginable — like pushing a giant rock uphill forever, despite one’s bleeding hands, spasming muscles, buckling knees — life’s challenges suddenly seem surmountable.
We all have the necessary resolve to persist through the worst of college, when one’s workload is unbearable and one’s personal life chaotic, as long as we view it worthwhile to do so. Therefore, we must search for the passion to continue and, like Camus’ Sisyphus, find it within us to “[conclude] that all is well” in spite of our troubles.
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