This week was one of the most difficult in my time at NYUAD. There were horrible unexpected developments, endless moments of anger and sadness and an unrelenting feeling of drowning. The most difficult part of this week was that I could not talk about my struggles. I couldn’t open up about some of them as they weren’t only my issues to share, but primarily I couldn’t open up because of the walls I have built up on my own.

I have reflected a lot in the last few days on why I’ve often opted to experience grief, tragedy or sadness in silence rather than reaching out for support or comfort. These feelings are incredibly private, and it can be overwhelming to open up and be transparent about them to even your loved ones. Sometimes, it’s easier to deny that anything is affecting you and put on a mask that you’re doing alright. And this denial isn’t just to spare others from a potentially intense conversation, it is also to minimize our struggles to ourselves. I know I am guilty of falling into the cyclical mentality of “just getting through this week” in hopes that the next will be less busy or calmer, which, as NYUAD students know all too well, is rarely the case.

Pretending to be fine is emotionally taxing, especially at a time when you’re already struggling. But the alternative, being brutally honest about how you are every time you interact with someone, is equally taxing in different ways. When I’m struggling and suppressing my emotions, it feels like things move in slow motion while the world continues to hurry around me, blissfully unaware of any troubles. I envy those around me who appear to be doing well but shy away from telling them about personal issues because it feels like a heavy emotional burden to place on others who have their own priorities and responsibilities to deal with.

I am a perfectionist to a fault, so leaving space for grief and negative emotions feels like failure. Just because I’m having an “off day” or receive difficult news doesn’t mean that I have the right to step away from my work or responsibilities. In situations where I know other people are counting on me, I rarely give myself the space to feel my emotions fully, let alone step away from my responsibilities for a moment to recharge, process and cope with my feelings.

I hate to admit it, but I also often feel that sharing my struggles will make me seem weak. I tell my friends and loved ones all the time that they should be honest about how they’re feeling and that no one will judge them, yet I often can’t bring myself to do the same. Sharing my actual feelings makes me feel vulnerable, like someone could turn my emotions against me in some way. I feel guilty about the hypocrisy of this fear, but it is something that I have always struggled to shake: I don’t want to open myself up to be hurt.

These fears are even more difficult to navigate when our culture is so obsessed with sharing everything we’re doing and showcasing our happiness for the world to see. Behind endless Instagram stories of beach days, roommate brunches and city outings lurk feelings of anxiety and sadness. The unrealistic portrayal of happiness and toxic positivity on social media channels isolates those who are struggling and reinforces beliefs that people should not acknowledge and make space for their negative feelings just as they do for their positive ones.

I’ve often tried to ignore the things happening in my own life by caring for others. My preferred way of expressing love and care for others is through acts of service, which has always been a perfect distraction from my own issues. It also has given me an excuse to be around other people without having to actually open up about my own life. While I see value in being able to care for others when I’m not in the best place myself, I’ve learned that it can get to a place where it is unhealthy, and I fully ignore my emotions.

I have seen how being emotionally closed off can affect me: I don’t sleep well, I lose interest in doing things that I love, and my appetite changes drastically. Forcing myself to be more open has been an incredibly confusing but enlightening process. Instead of pushing negative emotions in the back of my mind as if they don’t exist, I’ve begun to acknowledge, accept and unpack them so I know how to handle them. In the process, I’ve found people I relate to deeply, and who make me feel supported and seen in ways that I’ve never experienced before.