Both of my parents immigrated from Afghanistan to the United States from the late 80’s to mid 90’s intending to give their kids a better chance at life. To the land of opportunity, where education was not threatened based on gender and the ground did not rumble due to the constant conflict. To this day, both work extensively to assure my siblings and given what they could not have. Â
Being a first-generation college student is a concept that many cannot comprehend. While feeling the burden to perfect held me down, the pressure of fitting into Western ideals wrapped around me. Â
There are many support groups and mentors out there, but it does not bridge the gap between opportunity and culture. Â
It feels hard to fit in. I can pass hundreds of people and find nothing in common. The only reflection I recognize is the one in the mirror and sometimes even she is a stranger. Â
My freshman year I struggled very hard with my identity. While IÂ owed a lot to who I am, it was hard not being able to find a familiar face. I missed home-cooked meals. I missed speaking my mother tongue without getting a look. I missed seeing myself in the people I saw every day. Â
I shut myself in the room and cried. I cried until I slept and cried when I woke up. Yet I continued to act like everything was alright. Eventually, it started to reflect on my grades and relationships. Â
It was hard. It took me months to eventually realize but I struggled heavily. No matter what I tried I felt like I was caught in a repeated cycle of motion.Â
Wake up.Â
Go to class.Â
Eat lunch.Â
Go to class.Â
Do homework.Â
Go to sleep.Â
Every single day, the exact same thing. Â
I fell into this deep hole of depression. Like I was drowning myself. I could see myself struggling to breathe. Â
I needed to get out and do something. Whether it was taking a walk or just going to the laundry room, it took tons of encouragement from my friends, but I did it. Â
Slowly I was able to feel the sun on my skin. My smile felt somewhat genuine again. Â
Recovery is not linear. Sometimes I will cry but other times I will laugh. Â
I joined a few organizations, but the most beautiful one was Her Campus. While I may sound biased, I found such wonderful people in my chapter. Everyone was so welcoming and willing to take me under their wing. Â
This is a sign that things will get better. While you may feel like you’re drowning I promise you will be able to breathe again. The first gasp of air is so refreshing. Remember that you are strong and beautiful. Â
Please never forget that you are loved. Â