If there’s one thing that coming to Berkeley has taught me, it’s the art of moving on. With the constant bombardment of classes and deadlines and events, there’s no time to stay stuck in the past. Whether it’s a grade that has you down, a situationship that petered out, or even a humiliating interaction, you have no choice but to keep pushing onward and search for something better.
In all honesty, even as a freshman, I’ve had to deal with my own share of “moving on” since getting here. Every new person I’ve met represents at least one horrible, haunting wide-awake-in-bed memory of my own social ineptitude, and it once seemed that every club interview culminated in a 12:30 am “We regret to inform you” style email. The process of dealing with all of it wasn’t what I was used to.
Suddenly, there weren’t days or hours (or, sometimes, even mere minutes) to ruminate over every perceived failure. To spend a day hiding under my covers in self-pity would only create a whole new set of problems.
So, I’ve had to adapt to this new place and its new pace.
Now, I try to give myself five minutes or less, immediately after the instance occurs, to unpack whatever emotion I feel about it. From there, I allow myself one (or maybe two, if the situation calls for it) venting sessions with friends.
And then, there’s the revolutionary step: Letting it go. Moving on. Living life without those lingering, all-consuming thoughts.
It can be as easy as distracting myself: opening a book I’ve buried in my backpack, writing a paper that I probably should’ve started a couple of days ago, going out somewhere with friends, or even catching the bus and getting off at a random stop. I have to turn the endless thinking into something productive, whether academically or socially or mentally or emotionally.
One crucial thing that I’ve realized in this process is that you have to know the difference between working toward personal growth and ruminating endlessly on something that’s ultimately outside of your control. The latter is what tends to happen, at least in my case, and it only serves to prevent me from seeing all of the other opportunities just outside of my single-minded view.
Living in such a vibrant, bustling landscape has taught me to keep trekking on, despite it all. All of these things that feel so big, so monumental in the moment, will eventually be just a speck in the rearview mirror of life. To get out of it, you just have to keep going, keep driving (or walking, more accurately, since this is Berkeley that we’re talking about) and wait for a brighter, happier place to stop.