How We Change
It’s difficult to perceive change, especially when it is inside of us. In the book, “Teach Us To Sit Still,” Tim Parks wrote that ‘to think of a thing is different from to perceive it, as “to walk” is from “to feel the ground under you.”’ To think of change, I believe, is to see a pandemic rip apart lives and families, or to see layers of systemic oppression reach their boiling point. It is to watch as world leaders are dragged down and to see governments break. It is to externalize transformation. But to perceive change, that is to feel it in each of us individually.
As I tried to understand my own internal change, I learned a very hard truth: I constantly undermine my relationship with myself. This manifested in a dependence on the people around me for fulfillment and a fixation on their perceptions of me--or rather the ones I created for them. This made me fear misunderstanding and often perpetuated feelings of loneliness and discontent. I felt as if I was not ‘enough’: not strong enough, kind enough, generous enough. But this idealisation assumed that there is an end, a goal that I would eventually reach in becoming someone different than myself. Maybe better; complete? But I’ve realized that we don’t ever stop being ourselves, we only begin to see ourselves in different ways and from that, if anything, we grow to become more of ourselves.
It is difficult for me to write about these realisations because, by all means, I am still trying to grasp them. I have never understood why I relied so deeply on my friends being present, why I did not want to wear certain things, or act certain ways. Maybe I felt that physical presence was the only way I could receive affection? Maybe I was afraid of judgement or criticism for the ways I wanted to express myself and my sexuality? Or possibly I was still trying to be this person I imagined but never really felt comfortable with. I really don’t know. But in becoming more of myself – through re-prioritizing my own needs and giving myself space to exist outside of predetermined expectations of who I must be – I’ve begun to see change as a tool rather than an answer. Change is not determined by a destination just as life is not determined by a death. These are points we will reach, yes, but we do not live our lives only to die and we do not change only to be one thing.
At this point, in the early days of 2021, I believe that my growth has been embodied in noticing what I have rather than what I may lack. I’ve stopped feeling as anxious and insecure about how my friends felt for me because I started noticing the ways that they did reach out. I also began to accept the parts of myself I used to believe as ‘too much’ or ‘not enough’, especially pertaining to my sexuality. These were mainly in what I wanted to wear and in how I wanted to act. They have become aspects of who I was and who I still am that I genuinely admire. I am lucky. My year, although hectic and at times quite lonely, came to be a period of my life that I will look back on gratefully, not for becoming who I was always meant to be (because are we really ‘meant’ to be anything,) but as the time I began to reconnect with myself and the parts I was afraid to accept for so long.
In this regard, we cannot just write off this year. However, in order to move forward, I believe that we must reflect on how far we’ve come and acknowledge the changes that have occurred in our communities, our families, and ourselves.
During this last year, I lost some family, both to covid and to external conditions, but I am grateful that my parents were able to continue their careers and that I was given a chance to reflect on my situation. I do not want to project reflection as a sole aspect of privilege, although in many forms it is. But reflection is in these regards an act of acknowledging and questioning where we are versus where we’ve come from. I wanted to tell the following stories as they show their respective views of this year, ranging from the Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement to pre-maturely returning to our childhood homes. In this act of reflection, I got some hopes and a few regrets, but no singular conclusion. Each perspective is valid in itself and I hope that from them we can take 2020 as an opportunity to acknowledge our own journeys throughout this historic time.
Hayley
As the year was filled with events provoking reaction and reflection, 2020 became a catalyst for change. Almost as a chemical reaction, world events and external stimuli provoked an internal growth in individuals. For Hayley, a first-year International Development and Politics student at Lake Forest College,Illinois, the pandemic and the rise of the BLM movement sparked big changes in her life and self-perception.
Hayley spent her summer at home in Jamaica without much to do, in the midst of the Covid-19 outbreak and social unrest worldwide caused by the murder of George Floyd. She was feeling lost, sad, angry, bored, and frustrated, to the extent that she could not keep it for herself anymore. That’s when her process of growth and change started.
‘In this past year, change for me meant making life my own as much as possible, embracing my values and trying to live them in everything I do.’
Being stuck at home due to the pandemic gave her the space to revive herself and she started to channel her frustration about injustice and racism into activism. With other friends, she founded ‘Overthrow Babylon’, a social media platform to amplify the voices of victims of racism. She then contacted two online publications, ‘Justice for all’ and ‘The Whorticulturalist’, and published a few powerful articles in their pages, ranging from black female activism to gender violence in Latin America. At last, she helped develop a Diversity, Equity and Inclusion course for students and staff of the United World Colleges, an international educational movement.
Hayley’s internal change happened when she recognised her power to make a change through activism in those world issues which caused her so much frustration.
“All the changes I lived were about being a better version of myself. That’s because in a moment when I felt really lost and unable to affect change in my life and in the world around me, I realised there was nothing holding me back from affecting a change but myself.”
She then pointed out how “every part of my identity is so dangerous and scary to be in so many different ways, being a black queer woman.” Thanks to the process of growth she underwent in the past months, she is no longer afraid to be who she is.
‘I have autonomy only in the way I create it. In 2020 I embraced all the potential I have, I realised I am powerful. Once I internalised this message, I learnt that I owe it to myself to start using these abilities and power. I feel stronger, better and happier to not give a fuck.’
Martin
The suddenness of the pandemic caused ripples throughout all of our lives. A major theme was the return of college students to their childhood homes that left them struggling in a post-dependent, pre-independent relationship with their families. Martin, a third year Arabic and International Relations student at St Andrews, was thrown into just this. ‘I was sort of asked to come home when the pandemic hit and I didn't know entirely if I wanted to or not.’ At the insistence of his parents (understandably) he spent the entirety of lockdown at home in New Jersey.
‘I hadn't really spent that long at home since school and my sort of initial realization was, wow like I've grown, I don't feel necessarily like I belong in sort of like a structured two-parent, two-child household. I feel like I'm able to have a life that is independent and I like living on my own or with my friends or sort of like on my own terms.’
I think this change is something we do not always acknowledge as we leave for university or just life outside of teenage-dom; we are not the same as we left, but when we return, we are treated (and often treat others) like we used to. I know I am guilty of this (sorry Mom and Dad) and I believe Martin experienced this to an extent. He explained that,
‘I can live alone on my own and take care of myself and I kind of like it. But that doesn't mean that I need to shut out my family and be taken care of completely. [It’s just] this sense of, like, individuality when you get to our age. For so long, I don't know about you, but when I was a teenager I was always wanting to do things on my own or go places on my own and so it is nice to finally have that freedom.’
From this change I asked Martin how this transition back home may have affected the way he saw himself, and he replied quite frankly that he ‘has trouble seeing himself.’ He further explained that his internal view changes with his mood or environment, but within all of this, he retains the things that are important to him at this time in his life. He ‘loves what [he’s] studying and the fact that [he’s] passionate about what [he] does outside of those studies.’ These are mainly Polis Media and Mermaids Theatre productions. He emphasised that he has struggled with being present in his day-to-day life, especially throughout 2020, but that he ‘knows those are the things that matter to [him].’
From Martin, there was not an outlook to the future or a sense of becoming. He wanted to just be himself: independent, present. It’s difficult to remember the things that make our lives mean something to ourselves and, during a pandemic, it's even harder to not lose sight of them. I think Martin’s story can ring true for many people as we all forget, sometimes, to appreciate the things that are most important to us.
Lia
For Lia, a first year sustainable development student at St Andrews, this last year was a chance for her to breathe after spending two years at an intensive boarding school. In contrast to Hayley and Martin, she needed this space to process change rather than build upon in.
‘So, it was for me, like, diving in, like jumping in the seat and holding my breath for two years straight because I was constantly caught up in different activities, different things I was doing.’
However, she found it difficult to reflect on this period because she jumped right into university life without really taking a beat:
‘Imagine I was made of Lego; little pieces when I arrived at the school and it's like I crashed on a wall and all my pieces fell down and I was trying to rebuild the picture… I would realize that some pieces were missing and they weren't there anymore, but in place of that there were new pieces that could fit in… I didn't feel completely me at that point because I didn't have the time to reflect on it.’
Her change was in many ways shown in her environment, but also in the ways she defined herself. When she had to go home for lockdown, Lia found it difficult to to balance the reconstruction of herself with the impressions that everyone else had been holding since she was younger. She said that, ‘whenever I would go home they would treat me and perceive me as the person that left one year before two years before.’ From this, she emphasized the issue that ‘when you grow and they don't see the process, they just see the final product but they can't understand it.’ So when I asked Lia what this change was that she felt, it manifested itself in that ‘being alone doesn't necessarily mean being lonely.’
So, ‘I started to understand… that my energies were limited, which I wouldn't really consider before. I would just bounce around between one social interaction to the other, one activity to the other one, without really considering the fact that my batteries could end at some point. I wouldn't accept if I couldn't have control, if I couldn't get to the end, I would freak out.’
Before I finished the interview with Lia, I asked her if she had any regrets. She said that, because she did not need as much external validation, ‘it became so easy to also just say no to opportunities or not look for them. I wasn't necessarily letting myself go so I was spending more energy in kind of holding myself up rather than just chilling with people.’ Although she regretted these instances, she remarked that we would not necessarily go back. She enjoyed being with herself and exploring that ‘little jungle in [her] mind.’
In all these regards, Lia wanted to summate her story into one idea: a saffron flower tattoo. It is ‘a symbol of youth… and richness in terms of values and being a rich person in the sense that you feel fulfilled.’ For her, this ‘marked [her] passage between being more of a kid to be actually a young person… and entering a more conscious phase of youth.’ She also said that the flower ‘lasts for like three days four days and then it dies,’ which ‘symbolised the fact that [she’d] been living like that in the past two years.’
Like most others, Lia did not give me answers. She told me of who she was becoming and who she wanted to become, and in that noticed the consequences in her community. She could not tell me what this change meant, but only that ‘change can't be acknowledged as you're living it because you're too busy living it.’ So from this, it’s important to take a beat (or a year I guess) and find what fulfills us so that we can be present for ourselves and those around us.
Shree
This entire piece has been to encourage a sense of reflection in myself, in those I interviewed, and in the reader. However, reflection can be difficult as many of us are deeply out of practice. To look at ourselves from another’s perspective is one thing, but to examine who we are or who we want to be from our own view is a completely different thing. When I interviewed Shree, a third year Psychology and Economics student at St Andrews, she experienced something similar: ‘I think this year was the first time I've actually reflected on myself because I just didn't have anything to do. I was just kind of, like, living.’
Her idea of change stemmed from observations of herself and those around her. She said, ‘in terms of human change I think it's when someone mentally changes. I think that it can be subtle or it can be very big… I definitely see change [as] an internal thing.’ For Shree, change in this sense impacted the way she viewed mental and physical health as well as her relationships with friends and family. For one, she wanted to take herself less seriously. ‘[I’m] allowed to like have those bad days or grumpy days.’ She also decided that, ‘rather than trying to be friends with everyone I realized that I might want to focus on like fewer people but, like, put more into those friendships.’
From this, I wanted to know why she felt this way; why this internal change was so necessary for her development. She responded,
‘I've seen myself as less of, like, the image that I wanted to be and more like who actually am. I think I always idealized myself and not in under a positive way. At school I definitely felt like the nerdy kind of girl [who] did everything so I [needed to] keep that image up. I [needed to] stop putting myself into those boxes.’
In effect, this period of Shree’s life was a time for confronting herself and her habits. She did not want to ‘get so easily swept up with life’ and to forget that it’s okay to not meet others’ expectations and to focus on her own needs. So in all these regards, Shree was challenging the person she thought she was with who she actually is; ‘I was forcing myself to know who I was.’
In summation to this interview, I asked Shree if there was anything she regretted about this year. She responded,
‘I think one of my regrets from this year is probably not challenging enough people. Like if people say things I don't necessarily agree with I kind of just like bite my tongue a lot more than I probably should...I think there's definitely been times where I wasted my time and I probably shouldn't have and hasn't been beneficial for either party.’
Shree’s journey this year allowed her, for the first time, to reflect on who she is. I think a lot of us get so caught up in life and expectations that we forget that sometimes we need to put ourselves first. Loving ourselves, appreciating those around us, is even more important when the world is going into chaos.
I wanted to write this article because I was afraid that people would leave 2020 without taking stock of what it gave, focusing just on what it took away. This is not to devalue anyone’s experience – whether positive or negative – but to meditate on who we were before and who we are now moving forward.
Change this year, for me, was about accepting who I am rather than who I thought I was. For others, change came in the form of returning to old environments as someone different than when they left. It came in challenging the values that others place on them while emboldening their own. Change meant something different to each person because none of us experience it the same way. I do not want people to take away from this article that reflection is a means to become better. Each of these stories tell us that our journeys are more than linear, that we grow and transform and reinvent ourselves countless times, especially when the world around is pushing us to do so. Change, I argue, is a tool rather than a condition that allows us to view ourselves as ever-evolving and growing rather than stuck in fixed habits, beliefs, and ideas.
Our parents like to say that we do not know anything. And they are right. We do not know what those around us are going through and we can barely comprehend what we’re individually experiencing. In the wake of a global pandemic, a civil rights movement, family transitions and separations, and another lockdown, it feels like we don’t even know what’s going to happen the next day. In respect to my own story, I didn’t know how much I was hurting myself by relying so deeply on my own expectations. I believe that our parents are completely correct in challenging our abilities to assume we knew anything. Change is inevitable. But to grow within ourselves we must acknowledge that change for what it is, whether good or bad.
