✿ ✿ ✿ ... WAS ALL THAT LETTING GO. ✿ ✿ ✿
We can make life worth living, or we can merely get through each day. Who we are to others is an exhibition of our best and worst days, and we are a product of persisting through those worst days. This section of my portfolio is dedicated to all the self-discovery that surfaced out of attempts at making life worth living but backfired. I wouldn’t be who I am or know what I like if I didn’t try, so here you will find all the times I tried. These are the aspects of who I am that are derived from the things I ultimately decided to let go.
Pictured to the left is a Taylor Swift poem titled "The Trick to Holding On." Ever since it was shared in the reputation era, I've found its sentiment resonating, reminding me that looking back and looking forward occurs at the intersection of the present. In this way, I have also come to see it as a dialectic-- holding on and letting go as seemingly opposite things that must be understood holistically in order to be understood individually. Thus, the last two sections of my portfolio are dedicated to what it is I want to hold onto and what I will be letting go of.
husky marching band
My participation in the Husky Marching Band (HMB) was short-lived, but nothing short of growth. As my senior year of high school came to an end, I could sense the displacement of the identity I developed that sought comfort in the familiarity of that campus for so long. I was fearful that who I was would be stagnant and, in my attempt to ease into college with some sort of familiarity, I auditioned for the Husky Band. I hesitated to audition- the idea of being a good enough musician to be accepted into such a respected band challenged me. I debated even auditioning for months, pleading for someone to tell me “yes, you can do it,” or “no, don’t even try.” I think I knew that being in the HMB wouldn’t provide the familiarity I was trying to cling onto, but in my true fashion, I felt obligated to prove I could do it- that I was good enough for it. After receiving an abundance of encouragement and validation, I decided I would go for it. Don’t get me wrong- I was excited and thought it would be an amazing experience- but I think somewhere in the weeks of practicing I put in before my audition, I realized that I was clinging onto the idea of playing music like I did in high school. I was hoping that my passion for it would translate into the new environment, but deep down, I knew it wouldn’t. While I waited for my audition results, I remember hoping I would be rejected so that I wouldn’t have to decide to do it or not. And then I got in. I got into the Husky Marching Band!
I reckoned with, rationalized, ranted to my mom, and ruminated on what that meant; ultimately, I accepted the invitation into the band.Flash-forward to moving into McMahon for preschool drills and hiding my nervousness with pigtails on the first day of band camp, I tried desperately to love it. I thought it was nerves beckoning me to quit, so I brushed them off. But they didn’t budge, instead, they persisted. I eventually found myself dreading coming back to camp each day, and I realized it was wrong. I should be excited, I remember thinking, but I wasn’t. And I didn’t want to start college with a commitment I couldn’t authentically give my all to. I wanted to start putting my own wants first, for once in my life, so I did. Accepting the anxiety that comes with quitting something bigger than myself, I communicated to my band directors that I knew in my heart I couldn’t go on with the band. With kindness and understanding, the situation went better than I expected. I was so relieved when I was officially done, and I knew that relief meant I made the right choice.I should have gone with my gut after my residual hesitance to even audition. I would’ve saved the premature goodbyes with my family before college, I would’ve saved the handful of long days of practice, I would’ve saved the guilt and embarrassment and disappointment I felt. If I had not tried, I would not have quit. However, if I had not tried, I would not have learned. I would not have made friends who supported me in my decision to quit and wanted to continue our relationship outside of that setting. I would not have registered for concert band this quarter to hold onto that musical outlet. I would not have learned that my priorities are different than what I thought they were.
Sometimes, though, I can’t help the feeling of what could’ve been while I watch the band perform in the Husky Stadium and wonder about the experiences I’d have if I didn’t back out: awkwardly thrusting with my saxophone to “Louie-Louie” at rallies, frantically learning pre-game routines week after week, being celebrated by the crowd after halftime. But then I think about the experiences I’d have lost if I stayed: having the time and capacity to participate in completely new activities and become a Student Leader, Peer Adviser, and more Those things mean more to me than playing music, and I know that now. I am letting go of what could have been my marching band experience.
best friends
It is a rare and wonderful thing to find your people. To find the types of friends that make life more fulfilling. I found that college is the ultimate opportunity to dive into these relationships-- how they handle the weight of becoming an adult and discovering new priorities, how forgiveness is given and handled, how joy is shared and created. The comfort of four years of this made it easy to look forward to what was next, knowing it would be there.
I have found that college, then, makes change even harder. The appreciation I feel towards proximity can no longer be depended on when it comes to maintaining relationship with the people I hold so much love for.
Pictured on the left is my former roommate Sam. Sammy and I, as noted in the Terry Hall section of my portfolio, learned how to navigate the most intimidating part of college together... which was starting it. We spent many late nights decorating our room, celebrating holidays together (our favorite was Valentine's Day, and we would always bake some delicious treats, have homemade pizza, and watch the cheesiest movies). I'll never forget our gratitude time, when we would do our night routine and go back-and-forth sharing what we were grateful for. It was not unusual for people to think that Sam and I were dating, which is funny to us, but also I think such a beautiful thing-- to care for each other so loudly that people noticed. While Sammy and I are both happily in relationships (not with each other), I do love her with my whole heart.
Pictured to the right is Jamie. Jamie is the person I alluded to in the Honors section, and we met our very first week at school four years ago. We bonded over burnout and perfectionism and our aspirations for finding ourselves. Somewhere along the way in the past four years, what defines undergrad to me became intertwined with our friendship. Being a friend of Jamie's is to be seen nonjudgmentally and known radically. It is to reciprocate our ways of being with authenticity, acceptance, and invitation. I like to joke that I want to be Jamie so bad that I stole her job as a Peer Adviser, but in reality, Jamie is the kind of friend who you feel so inspired by that you can't help but aspire to their level.
The reason why these friendships are outlined here is not because they are ending-- I would be absolutely heartbroken if that were true-- but because both Sammy and Jamie will be leaving the UW next year and it will be our first time navigating and sustaining both mid- and long-distance friendship. But, these are the friendships worth maintaining. These are the kind of people you don't let slip away. Thus, while I am not letting go of our relationship and I am determined to stay as close as we are now while Sammy is at WWU and Jamie is teaching internationally, I am letting go of our college adventures together and I am embracing what is to come next.
math 125 and changing my major
I came into UW with a plan: I was going to double-major with a BS Psychology and Neuroscience, with an eventual goal to obtain a doctorate. As I explained to those who asked, this was a good pair because it bridged the gap between the things that make us who we are and the neurological components that cause that to happen. I thought this was what I wanted. I simultaneously craved the academic validation of people acknowledging how difficult a pathway that would be and feared that I would not be good or smart enough to be successful in such a demanding environment. Nonetheless, I started my first quarter at UW in Math 125. Despite being successful in Calculus in high school, I felt extremely daunted by the rigor of college math at the next level. I think that held me back a little bit. The first few weeks of the quarter, I invested so much energy into math because I wanted to prove I was able to handle it completely- and that drained me. I am not naturally talented at a lot of things; the activities and academics I am good at are because I put in the time and effort to become good at them, because I love them. Math was one of those things in high school. Equations and problems always felt surmountable when I finally figured them out, and that gave me the confidence to keep going, which consequently led me to be proficient. However, I think I psyched myself out coming into UW because I was so scared of unfamiliarity. I knew I would no longer be the smartest in a room of eleven students, rather, I would be a meaningless member of a hundred person lecture, lost in the frantic scribbles of numbers, letters, and greek symbols. And then I failed my second quiz in Math 125 after studying to my maximum capacity, and I realized I couldn’t do it. No- I realized if it was something I really wanted to do, I would find it in me to continue, but math wasn’t something that I wanted to invest my whole being into being adequate at. I felt myself habituating to the unhealthy study routine I adopted in high school, and I vowed to myself that I wouldn’t let school be my entire world in college. I wanted to learn, and I wanted to live. So, I worked with my academic advisor to drop that class and add a new course, which was such a difficult, necessary thing. After that switch, I was happier. I didn’t feel trapped in my own head, and I felt like I could truly adjust to school for the first time.
Amidst this realization, I was confronted with my personal desire to pursue the STEM direction of Psychology. I knew that math was more rigorous than I was able to handle, but I knew that Neuroscience required that and more. And then I started thinking deeper about my plan. A few times during the start of the quarter, I had been asked if I started my bio-series for Neuroscience, and I remember thinking, “I didn’t even know I needed to do that. That doesn’t sound like something I want to do.” When I thought about what my academic plan entailed, I felt exhausted and scared and passionless. I realized that I worked so hard to prove I was smart enough to be in STEM and hold onto all the baseless expectations I set for myself, but none of it excited me as much as the validation did. I had the simple epiphany that I did not have to uphold the arbitrary plan, so I changed it.
Now, pursuing a BA in Psychology and Education Studies has taught me what it is to feel drawn to something deeply. Rather than STEM, I redirected my plan to have a humanities focus. My mother has always worked in education, and I’ve considered following in her footsteps but never allowed that idea to transpire. From dreading what my future entailed, I became ecstatic about all the classes I would get to take and the work they entailed when I made the mental and literal switch. I was beyond excited for the direction this plan led to, and I wasn't trying to convince myself otherwise. Thus, I have let go of academic validation driving me.
the past four years
Being a first-generation student, though it felt empowering at times, also felt like an endless barrier when it came to engaging with novel institutions, systems, and language. It’s challenging because, unlike some of my peers, I didn't have a parent or sibling to turn to if I have a question about the fine print. Every new college experience came with the demand of navigating it myself or figuring out who I can turn to for help. Being a first-gen student has taught me agency and resource-seeking, and I’ve been able to use my experiences to support peers in similar situations. It’s also something I am so proud of because I get to be the trailblazer of higher education in my family and show that success is possible despite uncertainty and unfamiliarity.
The past four years have also, evidently, taught me new ways of thinking, engaging with others in community, seeking change and bridging gaps, being a leader and contributor. Through interdisciplinary thinking, experiential learning, and reflection, the Honors Program has instilled in me skills that will help me navigate both the uncertainties and exciting times ahead. My majors have cultivated a strong background in which I will apply and use it to inform my ways of moving forward. My participation as a student at the University of Washington has become an integral part of who I am.
It is exciting and scary to let go of the past four year. But, it is inevitable and invited.
Thank you for going on this journey with me as you explored my portfolio! If there are any bits you want to revisit, feel free to continue interacting. If you have questions, curiosities, or want to connect, my contact is below.