My dream for my future is to help people. I know it sounds cliche, but that’s all I’ve ever wanted. When I was younger, I was the kid that would help the person next to me sound out the words on their spelling test, even though I’d get in trouble for helping them cheat. As I entered high school, I struggled to decide what career path I wanted to follow that focused on helping others. I'm far too squeamish to be a nurse, and I love animals too much to ever put one down as a veterinarian. Ironically, it wasn’t until I began going to therapy that I discovered something that was the right fit for me. Let’s rewind. I started going to therapy because of my anxiety around perfection. You don’t have to look too deep into my life to figure out where this comes from. I do competitive color guard, which is an extension of the flags, wooden rifles, and fake sabres you see during the marching band show at half time. Every winter, thousands of color guard performers participate in Winter Guard International, an international circuit where groups perform an indoor show with no marching band–just the guard members, their equipment, and recorded music. It’s a highly competitive, incredibly niche performance sport. You are judged on if you catch the flag or drop it, how much presence you hold, if you have the right technique. I think almost everyone in color guard has gotten the “nobody cares” speech from an instructor. Nobody in that thousand-person audience cares if your stomach hurts, nobody cares if you just got cheated on, nobody cares if Fluffy the Hamster kicked the bucket yesterday. You still have to go out and perform. As a performer, this mentality is positive–it’s tough love; it’s reality. But when you apply it to life outside of guard, as I found myself doing, it’s not as positive. I began therapy to try and move past the idea that no one cares. I went in believing that I wasn’t allowed to have a bad day; I had to be “on” 24/7. If I wasn’t perfect while performing, the judges’ scores would reflect it. I felt like I had to be perfect in my day-to-day life as well, for fear of being judged. Through therapy, though, I healed. I also realized I had found what I wanted to do. I’ve always cared, and by pursuing a career in therapy, I can help other people heal. I’ll be majoring in psychology at West Chester University this fall and intend to join the Honors College. I will also be participating in the Incomparable Golden Rams Marching Band and continuing indoor color guard. I aim to attain my Masters Degree in Clinical Mental Health Counseling, with the goal of becoming a therapist. I want to build a life off of caring about people. All I hope for in life is to make people feel like someone cares.

The societal patriarchy is the largest issue facing women's rights. Though an undoubtedly important social theory, it is just that--a social theory. It's like a ghost: you can feel it haunting you but are unable to physically see it, grasp it, or do anything about it. The patriarchy feels like an overarching, hovering cloud that rains with no end in sight. For most women, this is an "outside" problem. The idea of the patriarchy is far away and unmovable; it's something you don't have to think about too much unless you've devoted your life to changing it. While it has been comforting to me, in the past, to believe this, it is a false sense of security. Being a woman in our society means that some things are inherited. I never realized how much society's view of who I am affected me on an individual level until recently. I realized I apologize for things for which I hold no fault; I apologize for breathing air, for taking up space, for existing. Society has seeped into my bones and muscles and controls my movements; existing as myself means I must walk with the weight of a patriarchal society on my back. To say this affects the mental health of women is an understatement. How can one's mental health thrive when women have been unconsciously conditioned their whole lives that they must be perfect, never overstepping, never "being" too much? You must speak in a just high enough pitch and state your opinions with "I might be wrong, but I feel like...". I've often found this pressure enough to break me down into panic attacks in context to school, friendships, or my job. I would mess up on a group project, say something in a tone that could have come off as annoyed, or get walked all over by the male chefs at my job. No matter what caused it, I would usually end up hyperventilating. "Everyone hates me," I would think. In school, I was terrified to speak in front of other people because I was afraid I would come off as flawed. I didn't participate much or talk to my classmates because I thought I made too many mistakes to even try. I finally had enough of the constant anxiety. It was exhausting to be curled up in a ball of worry all the time about what other people thought of me and it was affecting my academics and social life. And so, I began therapy this past July. Through therapy, I've begun to dissect the role my experience as a woman plays in my mental health. I realized I had no real reasoning for my anxieties about how others saw me other than that I'd just always felt that way. This need to be "just right" has been ingrained in me since I was a child, the pressure of patriarchal expectations forever in the back of my mind. Since starting therapy, I've tried to take a step back and really understand the motivations behind my anxiety. More times than not, the answer I come up with is "how I think I must behave is how society thinks women must behave". Now, I have started to talk more in class and reach out to friends even though the "what ifs" about others' views of me still seems scary. My mental health is no longer placed on the back burner. I am no longer not letting the pressures of a patriarchal society dictate what I, as a woman, should be.

The societal patriarchy is the largest issue facing women's rights. Though an undoubtedly important social theory, it is just that--a social theory. It's like a ghost: you can feel it haunting you but are unable to physically see it, grasp it, or do anything about it. The patriarchy feels like an overarching, hovering cloud that rains with no end in sight. For most women, this is an "outside" problem. The idea of the patriarchy is far away and unmovable; it's something you don't have to think about too much unless you've devoted your life to changing it. While it has been comforting to me, in the past, to believe this, it is a false sense of security. Being a woman in our society means that some things are inherited. I never realized how much society's view of who I am affected me on an individual level until recently. I realized I apologize for things for which I hold no fault; I apologize for breathing air, for taking up space, for existing. Society has seeped into my bones and muscles and controls my movements; existing as myself means I must walk with the weight of a patriarchal society on my back. To say this affects the mental health of women is an understatement. How can one's mental health thrive when women have been unconsciously conditioned their whole lives that they must be perfect, never overstepping, never "being" too much? You must speak in a just high enough pitch and state your opinions with "I might be wrong, but I feel like...". I've often found this pressure enough to break me down into panic attacks in context to school, friendships, or my job. I would mess up on a group project, say something in a tone that could have come off as annoyed, or get walked all over by the male chefs at my job. No matter what caused it, I would usually end up hyperventilating. "Everyone hates me," I would think. In school, I was terrified to speak in front of other people because I was afraid I would come off as flawed. I didn't participate much or talk to my classmates because I thought I made too many mistakes to even try. I finally had enough of the constant anxiety. It was exhausting to be curled up in a ball of worry all the time about what other people thought of me and it was affecting my academics and social life. And so, I began therapy this past July. Through therapy, I've begun to dissect the role my experience as a woman plays in my mental health. I realized I had no real reasoning for my anxieties about how others saw me other than that I'd just always felt that way. This need to be "just right" has been ingrained in me since I was a child, the pressure of patriarchal expectations forever in the back of my mind. Since starting therapy, I've tried to take a step back and really understand the motivations behind my anxiety. More times than not, the answer I come up with is "how I think I must behave is how society thinks women must behave". Now, I have started to talk more in class and reach out to friends even though the "what ifs" about others' views of me still seems scary. My mental health is no longer placed on the back burner. I am no longer not letting the pressures of a patriarchal society dictate what I, as a woman, should be.