On glass and rubber balls: Happy Valentine’s Day

Like many other students at Duke University, my greatest fear in high school was failure. When I went to sleep at night, my mind would fester with a thousand frightening visions of how I might fail: not getting good grades, not getting into college and not getting a good job. These anxieties would rest only with my slumber, springing awake once more when day would dawn. 

But after coming to college, my fear of failure has abated slightly through constant confrontation. Applying to selective academic and professional opportunities at the Duke, such as elite pre-professional societies or scholar programs, means acquiescing to the fact that failure is almost certain, not because we cannot match up to our peers in terms of ability or talent but because there are so many of us and only so many of these opportunities. 

This fear of professional or academic failure has been usurped by a new kind of fear: a fear of failure in personal relationships. 

College heralds into our lives a complex plethora of new relationships: roommates, blockmates and friends that you spend time with far more than simply during lunch break or on the weekends, as it was in high school. It also brings with it the obligation to keep stitching the threads of relationships that we left behind — connections that, while we are away, can unravel without consistent effort and time. 

We have hearts bursting with infinite love and gratitude for all the joy with which these various relationships color our lives yet also, a limited supply of time and energy that we are able to dedicate towards nurturing each one of them. And the grief that grips us when a relationship unravels not because we have wronged each other but because we are simply unable to give any more of ourselves to others is a crushing one. We have no one to blame, and that is the worst part. 

So, how do we curate this perfect balancing act between all of our glass balls — the relationships and obligations that filter so much light into our lives yet also the ones so fragile that if dropped, they may shatter permanently. 

To be honest, I do not know. As someone consumed by the desire to keep everyone in her life as happy as possible, I often perceive disappointments by the most important people in my life as a personal failure. In an attempt to juggle all of my glass balls, I often end up with wounds in my own hands when they fracture. These wounds take a toll on my mental health and weigh heavy on my heart.

I am still navigating how to clean up some of these broken pieces, but I think reframing the way I mentally perceive my glass balls is an excellent place to begin. While it is a responsibility to juggle all of these delicately and properly, it is also a privilege — to love and to be loved by so many in our lives who are pained at the thought of not experiencing all of ourselves all of the time. I am learning how to appreciate the fragility of these glass balls for the ways in which they warm my heart and percolate the light into my life that makes it worth living. 

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