Learning how to be a human being, not a human doing by Caroline M. '18

When I graduated in 2018, I was talking to my partner about how lost I felt. Igniting civic engagement on campus and advocating for peer to peer mental health had been my purpose and identity. And after leaving – I felt like a balloon with it’s strings cut.

Adrift. Empty. Useless.

I didn’t know what to do with myself or what was important to me – faced with decisions like where to live and to work. I didn’t have values that could guide me – only an emptiness that needed to be filled by feeling useful. Productive.

Only after six years of losing and almost losing things I didn’t realize were important, do I now have things I won’t let go of. Things I cannot live without.

Only now, have I started to live as a human being and not a human doing.

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Here are some of the things I’ve learned to value, through the eyes of my younger selves to now.

 

I’m 18 and a freshman. I don’t have time to waste on video games, there are “better things to do with my time”. I’m proud of the fact that not a single game is downloaded on my phone or computer.

 

I’m 24 and sitting down and playing games is something I look forward to. After a long day, capturing Pokemon alongside nostalgic 8-bit music, listening to killer vaporwave beats from a murder mystery, and completing a quest with friends in Baldur’s Gate 3 fill my heart gauge with energy. I’ve learned that playing games (maybe not until 3am) isn’t something to feel guilty about when it brings me joy.

I learn to value time to decompress and play.

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I’m 19 and a sophomore. I’m crashing in Tokyo with a friend I made through inline skating. She’s almost 30 and lying in bed with a heating pack on her back after only a gentle 10 mile skate. I look away, embarrassed for her and think “I won’t be like that.” I’m proud of my “self-sufficiency” and carry everything I need for months of travel in just one backpack with my skates strapped on top.

 

I’m 25 and in a rice roll (cheongfun) restaurant in Toronto with a friend. It’s been an extraordinarily long day. Despite looking forward to this trip for years, I spent the day mentally managing my chronic ankle pain and tendonitis. At the art museum, I was sitting on a bench swapping my ankle brace for my aircast ankle boot – the sound of velcro echoes. In Chinatown, we walk at a snail pace. Guilt increases with every step as I know he wanted to walk around more of the city.

That evening, the relief of finally sitting down, the shame of my inability to do more, and the mental load of the pain push me over the edge. Big, fat, Spirited Away Chihiro tears fall onto my phone as I am stuck on an Uber screen, agonizing over whether I spend $20 to Uber home or take public transit (and walk more). He’s a great friend and says he’ll just cover the Uber and not to stress.

Many physical therapy and acupuncture appointments later.

I’m 28 and using a muscle roller on my IT band, psoas muscle, and back is now part of my nightly routine. I invest in acupuncture and massage appointments to help my muscles relax and not strain my tendons.

Like oiling a car or cleaning my skate bearings, I now understand that effort and care need to paid for something to function well. I no longer skip lunch, work long hours, and ignore my muscle pain, pretending sacrifice means I’m being hardcore and committed to my work. It’s just a sign of neglect.

I’ve learned to value maintaining my health.

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I’m 20 and a junior. I inline skate to everywhere on campus, partly because I wake up at 8:55am to get to a 9am class. Every morning I sprint out the door and see if I can beat my previous commute time, arriving to class winded and sweaty. Adrenaline is my coach, my crutch, and my addiction. When friends wave in the hallway, I wave, but rarely stop – always on my way to somewhere. One day, a friend tells me, “Hanging out with you feels like a meeting sometimes”. I’m crushed to hear it, but when strap my skates up to meet someone else in 15 minutes, I know he’s right.

 

I’m 27 and am hospitalized after falling on my skates, causing internal bleeding to my spleen and liver. I had been rushing from an appointment to a work meeting and mentally distracted from work stress. The nurses ask sympathetically if I was in a car accident and warn that I may need surgery to remove my spleen permanently. A few days later, one of my friends picks me up from the hospital in a torrential rain that floods Memorial Drive.

Instead of taking time off to heal, I worry about a work project and try working from bed through debilitating nerve pain near the injured organs. My partner helps me get up to go to the bathroom and I eat fruit yogurt pouches for months.

Many stomach meds and ginger candies later.

I’m 28 and have learned to not skate while stressed and just take the bus, an uber, or walk. My calendar isn’t full of back to back meetings – there are 30 min or 1 hour spaces in between. My morning alarm is now 20 minutes before my first meeting, not 2 minutes. I want to live life centered, grounded, and in my body – not running from it.

I learn to value mental breathing room.

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I’m 21 and just graduated, starting a new job at a nonprofit. At the end of every work day, the only emotion I feel is guilt for not having done enough. Most days I never see the sun because by the time I finish, the sun has set. Some days I take a break and then work from 10p to past midnight until I feel like I’ve done enough. When my younger brother visits and wants to hang out, I squeeze him in here and there, feeling further behind on work. I never feel a sense of accomplishment regardless of how many slide decks I finish, reports I publish, programs I lead – it’s just never enough.

 

I’m 28 and last week finally achieved one of my long-time goals to be a photographer for a wedding. Hearing my friend, the bride, talk about how precious this one picture I took of her dad is will always stay with me. And I overcame my fear of long-exposure and took this rad picture of light up poi at the dance part.

I now spend more time with my friends, on photography and storytelling, and with my family. Despite working at a nonprofit, I’ve realized that mission fulfillment isn’t the only kind of fulfillment.

Making sure I’ve enough energy to have deep discussions about movies with friends and my partner, take photos of friends and make them feel seen, and savor the time I have with my parents, all make me look forward to waking up every morning.

I’ve learned to value finding fulfillment outside of just my job.

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I’m 22 and it’s been a year since I graduated. The Red Line rushes through the tunnel on the way out of Charles MGH. The familiar sensation makes me feel disappointed that I’m still in Boston, wondering if I should move to DC or NYC or SF like so many other friends. Or maybe even Japan.

 

I’m 26 and hosting a barbecue with friends in the area. We’re doing cumin lamb skewers, grilled corn, grilled bok choy, and cantonese roast pork. We’re just catching up as the food gets nice and toasty. As voices overlap and wash over me, gratitude catches on my tongue like a snowflake. I realize I could never have done this if I moved overseas to Japan or Germany.

I’m 28 and have been in Boston for 10 years now including undergrad. My first photoshoots were with MIT friends in the Boston area. When I was bedridden from my accident, MIT friends came over to help cook the easiest to digest lentils. When I was isolated and lonely during COVID, I met up with MIT friends in parks to share food socially distanced.

I’ve learned to value a city to call home.

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I’m 24 and it’s peak COVID. Messages on my phone are unread for months, some years. Guilt wraps me like a force field, suffocating my best intentions. But next to guilt is also relief. It’s COVID so now I have an excuse for disappearing and not responding earlier! The “counter” has been reset so I can reach out to people without needing to explain that I’ve been depressed, lost, and overwhelmed. Except that… no messages materialize. Conversations continue unheard, in my head.

Many “sorry it’s been forever” later.

I’m 28 and shame no longer gets in the way of living life with my friends as it happens. After many sessions of therapy, my friends’ infinite patience, and the magic of discord communities, “friendshiping” happens everyday. High school best friends are now just best friends and we share our pulls from Pokemon TCG Pocket. I’m not always “catching up” with friends, because they already know what I’m up to from discord updates or informal voice calls. We can just enjoy each other’s company, watch an anime episode, or play Stardew Valley.

And in the roughest days of my dad’s cancer treatments, their hug emojis felt like real hugs. And when they’re having trouble waking up to get to work or going through a breakup of their partner of 6 years, I send hug emojis, stickers, and jinbesan their way too.

I’ve learned to value being there for my friends as life happens.

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I’m 28 and I feel a deep peace that’s new to me. A peace that comes when I see my actions aligning with my values. The internal becoming external.

I no longer feel ashamed at the many ways I don’t live up to my values or at the supposed lack of external progress in my life. I don’t fixate on how I think I’ve squandered the resources and guidance given to me by mentors at MIT, wasting my potential.

Instead, these words from one of my mentors, Kim, is a compass I hold closely –
“Do what makes you content.”

 

I’m learning to build my life bit by bit and value the things that bring me joy.

I’m learning to smile without feeling guilty about it – valuing my own worthiness to deserve happiness untied to productivity.

I’m unlearning the expectations of productivity that carried me through MIT and high school.

I’m learning how to be a human being and not a human doing.

 

And when I do that, I know deep in my bones, that I am making the most of the life I’ve been given. I’m proud of these precious lessons I’ve learned and excited to see where it goes.

This is life after MIT.

From the creator Yumiko Takeuchi on Jinbesan:

“The world where the sun and bubbles sparkle is truly wonderful, and I also love the creatures that swim leisurely in it. Even with busy days, the water is quiet, clean, and relaxing. I wanted to express that kind of worldview in Jinbee.“

 

Note about writing

This is my first blog since graduating in 2018, and also my first public piece of writing in six years.  For six years I’ve been ashamed about my own writing and voice – believing that it too self-conscious or simplistic. Every time I tried to write, I cringed at the words and couldn’t continue.

It’s taken me many therapy sessions to get to the point where I don’t criticize each word as it lands on the page, letting them come out as they are.  I went through 3 drafts before publishing this one, each looking almost completely different than the last.

If this feels familiar, I want you to give your voice a chance. It deserves to be nourished. It deserves a chance to explore and evolve.  It deserves a chance to be heard by you. Rediscovering writing has felt nothing less than liberating and a therapy in itself.

Give it a shot and let me know how it goes <3 

[email protected]

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Special thank you to my partner, CD, JX, and AH for reading the “many drafts later” of this post and helping me grow as a writer and person.

And thank you to my therapist and coach Josh for guiding me past the “Should’s” and helping me rediscover writing, expression, and photography.

 

My photography instagram https://www.instagram.com/kyaorain/