The way our school functions on a daily basis is something that is widely accepted but rarely acknowledged. I mean, yes, everyone knows about the classes, meal times, sports, and homework at Andover, but all these are simply the motions that our physical shells weave through. What about the human beings, the mental and emotional entities hidden beneath those outside armors?
The days seem to blur and it’s easy to rely on what your body knows from practice. I like to think that for the majority of the time, us students run on autopilot. The habits and actions we know we are supposed to do (like brush our teeth, attend classes, or avoid the Commons pollock) are what guide our lives without our conscious thought. Allowing our schedules and deadlines to take control makes us less dependent on our ever-waning self-motivation and exhausting inner monologues that tend to drag us down. In other words, it’s easier to live on autopilot than face the reality of the pressure, stress, and our emotions — but if you feel that you’re alone in making your way through the motions, understand that so many others are too.
Yes, we may meet our homework deadlines, get to class on time, and receive the grades we want, but the pervasive pressure to constantly perform to the highest level takes an unimaginable toll on our emotional and mental states. For one, the relentless pursuit of excellence often leaves you grappling with anxiety and stress because when the exhaustion finally hits you, you realize how unsustainable your lifestyle is. You start to find the suppressed worries you’ve worked so hard to bury deep inside: the worries of whether you are good enough. You begin to compare yourself to your peers who you worry are doing so much more. Then, the amount of analytical criticisms aimed at your own self as you stare at your reflection in the mirror increases. After a while, your fears of disappointment, failure, and letting your parents down completely envelop you whole.
Running on autopilot is, quite counterintuitively, an escape from this reality. It serves as a distraction from the stress and self-doubt ingrained deeper within us, turning our attention onto simply getting to our next class or hitting that Canvas submit button on time. Autopilot is a source of protection and stability. Autopilot prevents us from simply stopping. Depending on autopilot quiets such a dangerous desire because while the ability to take a breath seems so enticing, you also know that the only person who will have to clean up that mess is yourself. It would be up to you to deal with the consequences of your absences, make up the work, face your tarnishing grades, and risk sabotaging your future goals. The repercussions of simply stopping are almost scarier than the act of just pushing through the struggles.
I understand. There’s a hopelessness in the realization that the only option is to go through the motions and to ignore the emotions that scream at you to stop fighting. There’s only day after day, waking up in the morning, excited to fall back asleep. There’s the hopelessness in realizing that it’s only the first month of school and it’s already a struggle, but you’re going to have to make it through each day over and over and over and over again. It’s the idea of the fight or flight response, but the only real option is fight.
While I don’t have a mighty pep-talk to encourage you to keep fighting, I can say that I am with you. Though I know autopilot is not a solution to our problems, I can only hope that you find some comfort in knowing that many of us are dependent on the same survival mechanism, pushing through the turbulence, even when the destination feels miles away.
