Stoicism 

“You have power over your mind” 

I’ve never been much of a stoic. 

I cry over the inevitable, obsess over the past, and drive myself crazy, ruminating the countless possibilities of how my life could have gone differently, of how outcomes could have been changed, of how I could have somehow wrestled fate and won; it’s stupid, it’s irrational, but it’s also human. I’m too stubborn to concede when things are no longer in my hands, when things were never in my hands to begin with. It’s this need for control that so permeates my life, trapping me in the past; it’s frankly, debilitating. Even in that innate self-awareness though, I can’t stop myself.

So, when I got my first college rejection letter earlier this week, I thought I would take it more harshly. I thought I would argue, plead, fight with no one, everyone, myself even, looking back at my own academic performance and application, agonizing over what I could have done differently: gotten just 100 points higher on my SAT score, crafted my personal statement in a more creative way, or picked a different major. I thought I would try to rationalize this disappointment, crying that they didn’t deserve me anyway or petulantly complaining that this wasn’t fair. 

College meant that much to me. Despite everyone saying that it didn’t matter, I attached the concept of getting admitted to my competency, my identity, my self-worth. My reaction wasn’t going to be pretty, I knew it. A rejection ending with anything but a complete mental breakdown was unfathomable, especially due to my excitement and enthusiasm for this specific campus. 

But, when I opened that dreaded email, it was… surprisingly underwhelming. I had felt so anxious up to this point, but suddenly, on the precipice of my predicted devastation, there was this soothing serenity that washed over me. I no longer felt as passionately as I had; the words, “we could not offer you a place,” didn’t pierce my heart as painfully or as completely; of course, I was sad, but there was also this strange sense of relief: I was going to be okay. 

 “You have power over your mind — not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength,” philosopher Marcus Aurelius said. There’s something so profoundly beautiful about that, something wonderful that I had denied myself for so long. I was so terrified of giving up control, and yet, in that, I forgot really what I had power over: my reaction. I didn’t have to exhaust myself in meaningless, unsatisfying introspection about the past. Instead of running myself in circles, I could move forward.

I thought this experience would break me, but it’s done the opposite: it’s let me find freedom.