I still remember February of 2014 vividly. While my classmates were studying for their mock exams, I was on a train from Zürich to St. Gallen. Many of my peers thought I was “living the life” traveling to Switzerland right before exams. I probably should have been reviewing during that week. However, as painful as the last stretch of cramming can be, I am sure I felt worse than most of them did.

My story does not actually start with my trip to Switzerland, but rather at my boarding school in Norway, a week earlier. At that time, I had broken up with my girlfriend, and it devastated me. I guess that the intensity of the heartbreak was a consequence of watching too many Mexican telenovelas as a child and romanticizing the relationships that followed.

I needed to find a solution that would help me forget about the breakup, and I also needed to do well on my mock exams, as I had not received a single university offer yet. I thought that getting off campus was the ideal solution, but when I arrived to Zürich I was more confused than relieved.

Leaving campus did not comfort me, probably because I was not sure whether it was worth making my parents pay for a last-minute ticket from Norway to Switzerland. But maybe it did help, because my physical and mental health were deteriorating quickly, and even my closest friends were worried. To this day, I am not positive that my trip was a good decision; however, the distance allowed me to put things into perspective.

A week later, I returned to campus, and I was determined not to let my situation ruin the last three months of my United World College experience. However, I was wrong. It was extremely difficult not to be affected by seeing my ex-girlfriend every day, in classes, around the Student Village, in extra-curricular activity meetings or anywhere on campus.

My physical and mental health continued to worsen, and I was aware of it. I did not want to study. I did not want to eat either, and many of the times I ate I would vomit right after the meal. My friends tried to help me out and did what they could. People invited me to drink, I went drinking; people invited me to go for a smoke, I went for a smoke; people suggested that I meet new people, I tried meeting them. The only thing that I wanted to do was to talk to my parents and be close to them. But whenever I spoke to them, I would break down because I could not bear being without them.

It was bad enough that people started to notice, and as tends to happen in small communities, a person’s problems are of general interest. I remember overhearing conversations in the cafeteria: “What is wrong with him?” “Is he eating enough?” “He looks so skinny.” "It is ridiculous he is behaving this way just because of a breakup, he needs to move on.” At the time such words hurt, but these people were right. I did not realize how much I had changed both physically and mentally until I arrived home for the summer. I had lost so much weight that none of my clothes would fit me anymore. Instead, I wore my younger brother’s pants.

When I landed in San Salvador, I cried, but this time of happiness for being back to my people after a long year in Norway. When I first saw my parents, they commented on how I bad I looked, and promised that they were going to do everything possible to make me feel better. In other words, they wanted to stuff me like a Thanksgiving turkey so I would gain some weight and spoil me as much as possible so I could feel fresh once I started at NYU Abu Dhabi. This was exactly what I needed. But once again I felt this was only a temporary solution, just like Switzerland.

Summer was like a roller coaster – there were days when I still felt the aftermath of the breakup, and there were other times when I was simply enjoying myself at home. Every time I felt down, I questioned why my happiness had to depend on someone else. I was tired of feeling that way. I needed to do something for myself that would make me feel better, and that did not involve third parties like psychologists, friends or family. While they were all extremely helpful throughout the process, I did not want to create a relationship in which I was dependent on them.

One summer day, I decided that I was going to start swimming again. I called my old coach and asked him if he could train me once more. He agreed. The first moment I jumped into the pool I completely zoned out. The pool became my safe haven. I could relax and forget about my problems while I trained for two hours. As the summer went by and the training sessions became more intense, I began feeling better with each passing day. By the end of the program, I barely remembered feeling sad about my breakup.

People frequently tell me that swimming is a boring sport because the only thing you do is swim back and forth while watching a black line on the pool’s floor, but that is the way life is when it comes down to it: you go back to look at your past in order to see how you can use it to your advantage in the future.

Summer was over, and it was time to start university. I felt excited to begin a new life at NYUAD – it was finally time for a fresh start. Was it really though? The moment Marhaba started, I began to fall back into that depression hole I was just about to leave, because NYUAD reminded too much of high school. My NYUAD experience was now inextricably linked to my depression in Norway – I was not giving myself the opportunity to like this place. Because of that, early in the semester I considered transferring, but I am glad I did not do so.

For many students, the mandatory physical education classes at NYUAD are one of many reasons for distress. However, my first P.E. class was actually the reason I decided to stay at NYUAD. My P.E. class helped me get back in shape; after four weeks of TRX, I was no longer the skinny Carlos who first came to NYUAD. If it were not for my P.E. class, I would not have taken advantage of the resources available in the Fitness Center, such as the personal training sessions and group fitness classes.

I know that some people may think this a shallow reason for staying at the university, but I do not think so. Exercising, at least for me, has a domino effect. If I exercise, I feel happier; if I feel happier, I am more positive; if I feel more positive, I know that my likelihood of doing things better increases. This effect is the reason I have become so invested in fitness. Some of my friends make fun of me for being a fitness freak; but to be honest, I am proud to be one.

Most people who know me here would not believe half of this story because I come across as very self-confident and at times, I admit, even arrogant. However, a year and a half ago I was a completely different person.

If this story provoked pity, then I have not succeed in conveying my message. Now, from a distance, I am actually glad that I went through a long period of depression. I believe that we all have to go through at least one difficult situation in life in order to learn how strong we are.