Tearing Down the Suffering Student

In the interest of self-care and -appreciation, I will preface this article with the following radical expression: self-care is great. Do it.

Now, on to business.

I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s noticed the recent growth of openness around discussions and portrayals of mental health issues, problematic lifestyle choices and self-destructive behaviour patterns, both in real life and in fiction. And please, do not get me wrong on this: I think it’s amazing. It’s a great step forward for society and individuals to discuss these things instead of sweeping them under the rug. However, while I am all for open discourse about all kinds of issues (since they are all valid and deserve visibility), the ugly underbelly of this publicity is the unintentional (and intentional) romanticisation of unhealthy behaviour we are faced with in the media. I don’t mean this in the same sense as some people romanticise straight-up abuse or self-harm, but how our normalization of severe issues, as well as their portrayal in certain contexts, may contribute to them being viewed as less destructive than they really are.

How many times have you felt you’re almost doing something wrong when everyone else is comparing their lives of sleep deprivation and cup noodles and you got a solid seven hours or sleep and ate a balanced meal? How many times have you felt drawn into that subculture of frantic energy and unhealthy coping mechanisms because that’s how everyone expects you to be, especially as a student? When films and books and music are full of that very specific type of romanticised self-neglect and sleepless nights that reflect a deep and profound spirit, a passion for your pursuits?

Yeah, that.

Never mind how actual insomnia is awful and leaves you with a fuzzy head visited intermittently by anxiety-inducing adrenaline bursts and your face looks like an uncooked lump of bread dough. How an unhealthy diet leaves you cold and tired and lethargic, unable to focus on anything. No no, instead they’re shown as a reflection of commitment to your pursuits, a sign of ambition and priorities. The only side-effects are aesthetic eyebags and occasionally lounging on your furniture in tried and tested Victorian ingenue-style.

It is not healthy to go without sleep. Neither is only existing off of pre-packaged carbohydrates and calling a meal balanced because it has ketchup in it. It shouldn’t be considered okay; it shouldn’t be normalised. But it is, and we act accordingly because even if we know it’s not good for us, it’s okay. Not because other people do it, not because it can yield dubiously successful results, but because no one is really telling us to stop and take care of ourselves unless you know where to look. Unless you’re actively harming yourself, this kind of behaviour is perfectly acceptable. No one acknowledges the need for help in milder cases. Instead you either have to face yourself and actively try looking for ways to help yourself, or just stay in this cycle until it ends, and you’re left with nothing but a handful of unhealthy coping mechanisms. Or then it never ends, and your life will always be clouded brains and bone-deep cramps.

I am, mind you, a major hypocrite in this department, I’m not gonna lie, but I am trying. I am trying to take care of myself in circumstances where it is normal, expected, idealised, to neglect yourself as a sign of success or commitment to your work or studies. It’s just always much harder than you’d think to genuinely break out of it. Especially when you’re shown it’s not only okay, but even sort of interesting in that brooding, Byronic way.

We’re constantly being shown cool, badass, beloved characters that are able to function with no issues even though they barely sleep, eat or take care of themselves in any other way. Of course, fiction is allowed certain creative liberties but it can often go above and beyond in romanticising this type of behaviour as tragic dedication or simply eccentricity, and it is portrayed in a light that expects us to view it as nothing more than an interesting character trait instead of severely disordered behaviour. Don’t get me wrong - flawed characters are great- but their flaws should be portrayed realistically and with consequences. And by consequences, I mean more than dramatically fainting that one (1) time. Self-neglect manifests itself in a whole variety of unpleasant ways and one shouldn’t portray it in conjunction with admirable elements without fully addressing its ramifications. It shouldn’t be treated as normal or, at the most, eccentric.

We’re all allowed to make mistakes, to have unproductive days and all-night study sessions that end with you having to deflate your eyebags in order to put your glasses on, but it is not alright to make a habit out of it, and it is not okay to encourage it. We need to acknowledge that in our lives, we come first and should be allowed to prioritize our own health, happiness and lives without feeling horribly guilty for it. It’s easier said than done, of course, I know, but sometimes you just need to hear that self-care is great. Love yourself, put yourself first and don’t let the toxic sides of this type of overworking-culture get to you. You don’t need to work yourself to death for some vague idea of future happiness, because it’s not worth being miserable now. Instead it will just poison your future with bitter memories that leave you feeling guilty and sorry for your past self.

So, maybe for this Valentine’s day (and hey, maybe for the rest of your life as well) you could try showing appreciation to the truly most important person in your life: you. Because if there’s one person I can assuredly say you’re stuck with for your entire life, it’s yourself, so why not make the most of it?

Artwork by Danielle Amorim.