Nov 9, 2020
For this final blog post of the term, I am keeping it short and sweet. Rather than talk about any of the many stressors occupying our minds these days, I am using this space for something else—something we could use more of these days: gratitude. Maybe you’ve come across the topic when studying psychology or browsing the internet, which is filled with articles espousing the health benefits of this simple practice. I personally learned of it two years ago and since then have gone through occasional bouts of trying to incorporate it into my daily life. I drew inspiration from one of my friends who would regularly ask me, “what are three good things that happened to you today?” I was charmed by the question and its capacity to provoke thoughtful reflection and instill unexpected joy. There was a time when I made a habit of writing down three things in my journal each night. Life, of course, got in the way, and I unfortunately fell out of the routine. But I recently decided to make an effort to get back into it. I think this simple exercise in gratitude has a lot to offer us. Especially in a time when so much is lacking in our lives, being thankful for what we do have is really important. So now, at the close of the term, I encourage you to think of three good things. If you can’t think of three for today, make it three over the past week, the past month, or even the entire term. Think of physical, external things—like your younger brother, the french toast sticks you had for breakfast, the sky at sunset. And be mindful of internal ones too—like your strength, your compassion for people you’ve never met, and the way you care for the environment. Big or small, simple or complex, anything works.
Flipping back through my journal, one of my entries went like this:
- Ran outside barefoot during a warm summer thunderstorm (I love rain!).
- Felt really strong after a good workout.
- The night sky was clear, and I got to see the stars.
So, give it a try. What are your three things?
~ Felicia Ragucci ‘22
Nov 2, 2020
I’ve worked in mental health advocacy for years now. The lingo, the conversation starters, the crisis line numbers, the best ways to convince students to pause and check out your advocacy table—all of this became familiar rather quickly. What remained stubbornly elusive for much longer, though, was arguably more central to my work than all of those above elements combined: my own mental wellness.
In all honesty, the full irony of having been most heavily involved in mental health advocacy during the years when my own mental health was at its worst seldom registers. I believe that the work, much of it during my junior and senior years of high school, became a sort of illusory progress: work on the issue at large, work passionately and invest fully, and how could my own mental health possibly miss out on the fruits of all this labor? Somehow, I figured, my time in the field—time that I spent lovingly, with genuine care for stigma reduction and social support—would also begin to pay dividends in my own mental wellbeing.
As it turns out, my expectations weren’t quite on par with reality. Obviously, perhaps, though my eleventh-grade self had been none the wiser. It wasn’t until my first few weeks at Dartmouth when I began to realize that whether I got involved with archaeology, astronomy, or ended up as a licensed psychotherapist myself, I would have to take an active role in improving my own mental wellness if I expected to see improvements. I peeked back through slideshows I’d put together for various student groups and presentations. I opened emails from positive psychology and meditation groups that usually tended to head straight to the archive bin. Mostly, I thought about my thoughts. The tips and tricks below are the results of about a year’s worth of (unfinished) work. They’re neither perfect nor universally applicable, though I hope they might be of some help to you all.
Invite awe. This one is simplest to implement and, for me, has the strongest positive effect. Every so often (once a week became multiple times a day as I grew to love the results), I look away from whatever I’m working on and focus on some part of myself—maybe fingers, maybe my legs or my feet. I remind myself that I am human. I am this infinitely complex organism with the ability to move my body and guide my interactions with the world in any way that I want. And because of that, or perhaps to remind myself of it, I’m going to try and do a handstand in my room. Or go find a cool leaf really quick and put it in my pocket. Or draw a little snowman on a sticky note and put him on my bathroom mirror. The act doesn’t matter so much as my autonomy to perform it. For one, it relieves feelings of stuckness; my life is mine to direct as I choose. Additionally (and perhaps most importantly), there’s simply no way to frown at yourself while you doodle a snowman for your mirror or pick out a good leaf. Life is far too short for unyielding seriousness.
Breathe! Far from original, but the physiological effectiveness here is undeniable. Honestly, I’ve never been a “square breather” or a “5-5-5” or even a “hand-on-the-belly” type of person. I find the many techniques for mindful breathing a bit overwhelming—choosing one means trying to choose the best, and I’m not sure any one process works better than the next. So I just breathe. In for a while, longer than normal, then a long and intentional exhale. Twice, maybe three times. Maybe five. The practice has become my mental zoom-out, and it hasn’t once failed to quell anxious thoughts. The trick here is actually doing the breathing, even—especially, actually—when life is stressful. For that, practice makes perfect. It’s a habit worth taking time to build. (Try it! Right now! Give it an honest try, and I promise you’ll feel a difference.)
Wrap yourself up. Out of the three tips I’ve mentioned here, this might be the least widely applicable. Not for its lack of effectiveness (all of us can benefit from a bit of oxytocin, and the vast majority of us will experience that through a quick squeeze) but simply because of the vulnerability required; I give myself hugs. Not everyday, and honestly I might go weeks without even thinking about it. But sometimes, whether I find myself flipping rapidly between tasks or quietly paralyzed in the face of work, a quick wrap-up—arms around each opposite shoulder—can do wonders. Grounding, comforting, and sometimes even jarring, the unexpected touch lets me serve as my own support. Reaching out to others is equally important and just as, if not more, effective. But reaching out comes with words, plans, and expectations. A hug from yourself is just a hug.
—Audrey Herrald ‘23
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