In the fall of my junior year, I was sitting in the London Global Gateway’s Student Activity Center with a few of my friends while we were chatting and doing homework. I don’t know how, but we somehow landed on the topic of dramatic people, and the conversation became specific to me and two of my other friends who were sitting with me. The three of us all agreed that were generally dramatic and emotional people, so we jokingly asked our other friend at the table to rank us from least to most dramatic. He laughed at the question, but then he told us it might be hard because we were honestly some of the most dramatic people he’d met.
The whole conversation was pretty light-hearted, but I was still slightly taken aback by his assessment. I’ve always known myself to be emotional, but I guess at that time, I never really thought about just how on-display my emotions truly are. Maybe I just lacked some crucial self-awareness at the time, but reflecting on the conversation, he was right.
Growing up, I was always the most emotional sibling. Most of the people I know — ranging from close friends to mere acquaintances — have seen me cry. And whenever I have a somewhat difficult conversation with someone, I almost always get emotional. The actual content of the conversation isn’t normally upsetting for me, but the fact that the conversation is taking place at all brings me to tears.
I could go on to list examples, but I’m sure you get the point: I’m emotional. And throughout the past week, I’ve really been feeling it.
I’ve been thinking a lot about my personal relationships and what those are going to look like as senior year comes to a close, and I’ve been stressed about the future. This is my last week as Assistant Managing Editor at The Observer, and it’s been an emotional journey coming to terms with the fact that such a big part of my life is concluding. We’re almost at the halfway point of the second semester of our senior year. For a girl who doesn’t always enjoy change, it’s a lot to handle.
I know that these are normal afflictions for college seniors, and many of my colleagues have been confronting questions of their own futures in the pages of this paper. I also know I’m not making this any easier for myself. I’ve had “Waiting Room” by Phoebe Bridgers on repeat for the past week, and I just asked my roommates to send me some of the saddest songs they can think of so I can add them to my playlist.
Through all this, I’ve sometimes found myself wishing that I wasn’t so emotional all the time. But when I talked to my mom the other day, she told me that sometimes the only thing you can do is cry it out and just let yourself feel.
There are few things as validating as your mom telling you it’s OK to be sad, and it’s exactly what I needed to hear.
I’m taking a class called “Jane Austen and Her World,” and we finished reading “Sense and Sensibility” a few weeks ago. In describing one of the main characters, Marianne Dashwood, the narrator calls her as “sensible and clever; but eager in everything: her sorrows, her joys, could have no moderation.” In fact, Marianne feels things so deeply that by the end of the novel, the sorrows of her personal and romantic life cause her to get sick.
When we were talking about the idea of sensibility and the extremes to which Marianne feels her emotions in class, my professor reminded us that to Marianne, things really are that bad. Even if we think she’s being dramatic, her emotions are genuine and we need to understand that.
I think my professor was trying to tell us that we need to give Marianne some grace when it comes to her emotions, and I think I owe it to myself to do the same.
I know I’m dramatic. I have my moments where I let my emotions get the best of me, and it’s not something I’m always proud of. But being emotional and fully feeling things can also be a beautiful thing.
Earlier today, I was driving around South Bend with the windows down while listening to the 10-minute version of Taylor Swift’s “All Too Well.” Few things bring me as much joy as belting along to Taylor Swift in the car, and I don’t think I could get as much joy from that if I tried to stifle my emotions. And had Taylor Swift not allowed herself to feel her own emotions so fully, we wouldn’t have bangers like “All Too Well.”
Even though the future is scary, and it’s hard for me to come to terms with the fact that important chapters of my life are coming to an end, I get to really feel the best parts of my life. It’s karaoke with my best friends from home over winter break. It’s spending time with some of my favorite people in the world at The Observer. It’s crying because my best friend surprised me in South Bend after her semester abroad.
If feeling the lows means that I also get to experience the highs, I know I’ll be alright.
Contact Gabrielle at gbeecher@nd.edu.
