This is my last article for this column. I’m graduating from William Jewell College in less than two weeks, and from there I’ll be moving on to my studies at seminary.

My undergraduate graduation feels very different than my high school one. Hardly any of my high school friends and I frequently talk, and I’ve invited almost none of them. People have entered and exited my time as an undergraduate, and we have all undergone growth during this time. Furthermore, graduating high school was a joyous occasion – I was no longer subject to my school’s setting, or my school’s morality issues. Jewell doesn’t just feel like an escape – there’s plenty I’ll miss about my time here.

Seeing as it’s been so different, I’ve been paying close attention to myself and what I’ve needed. Here’s how I’ve been managing the graduation feelings this time around:

1. Restricting my social media usage

For me, most of my social media accounts are connected to friends from high school. I’ve been seeing other people’s graduation photos and cliché captions – and there remains a few significant people from that time who I am no longer connected with at all.

I don’t really like seeing other people’s graduation pictures right now. As selfish as it sounds, I want to focus on myself. Avoiding social media has allowed me to focus on my own feelings, my own journey and the loved ones in my life that are by my side –  metaphorically and literally.

2 . Taking time to simply enjoy being on the hill

This year has been hard on a lot of us. For me, this year has been filled with Oxford homesickness, friend homesickness and an eagerness for the future. As much as I’ve been present with myself, there have been many moments where I’ve been paused in mourning. Mourning for my time in another country, mourning for people that are no longer part of my life. As much as this is necessary, I’ve been taking the time to be on campus, admiring and getting ready for leaving. Naturally, this includes taking the time to be with my favorite trees on the hill.

3. Celebrating the growth and challenges of the last four years

Now that the worst tests of my semester – comprehensive exams – are officially finished, I’ve also been using my free time to celebrate. My undergraduate years have been filled with challenges anticipated and unanticipated. For all the bad that has happened, I have learned how to begin emotionally taking care of myself. My family is happy, my friends are doing well and taking care of themselves – there is much I have to be thankful for.

4. Packing and cleaning

As much as this is a necessity that is unrestricted to the end of the semester, packing my things and readying my dorm room for my departure has slowly begun. It is something I can take time to go through my things and mindfully, physically, take stock. It has been deeply cathartic to send my textbooks from the past years – necessary for my exams – home. As it is the last time I’ll be exiting for the summer, I’m being a little more attentive to my things, whether it’s my collection of mugs, my books or my decorations. This extends to my Jewell email, which desperately needs to be re-cleaned since the last purge of unimportant emails months ago.

These four things have been very helpful in guiding me from exam mindsets to saying goodbye to my time here. I’ve cherished the moments that have led to me being here, sitting in my room, writing this article. I can’t wait to see what the future holds.

I’ve written an angry version of this article, months ago. I’ve thought a lot about this ongoing conversation I’ve involved myself in between my queerness and my religion. I’ve been angry, I’ve been jubilant with justice, I’ve been anxious. I’ve engaged with so many made-up bigoted people in my head that I’m worn out.

There is a place for anger. There is a place for hurt. I’ve found my footing in those, but I think it’s time I let myself experience and express the love I have for this space.

I began the search for a good seminary with nothing but the gut feeling that I’d end up there – at a seminary.

Four years ago, I tossed aside any hope for intellect with religion. It wasn’t in my churches. It wasn’t at my Christian school. It wasn’t anywhere I felt free to be and explore myself.

I’ve always felt disfigured, in one form or fashion. First, it was the scoliosis, then it was the anxiety and paranoia. Then, it was the queerness – what Jewell’s environment didn’t mind was a wrecking ball for almost every other aspect of my life.

I learned I was disfigured personally as well as physically. Something gross. A queer. A disappointment. A hard, chalky pill to swallow. Someone who needed to tone themselves down, make sure they were tolerable for others.

I know there has been some healing for me with religion, in the background of my growth these past few years. I know this will likely continue, just as I’m sure there are more scars I’ll collect.

But what surprised me about that moment, a year and a half ago, was that I was near-certain, almost immediately. There wasn’t doubt. I’d find a seminary, and I’d go there. That was it.

I didn’t tell anyone, save a few friends. It felt like a precious new part of my life, a secret thing growing inside me. I knew where I wanted to go after I graduated, and I knew that I would be undertaking a daunting personal task: wrestling with a text that I consider just a text. Fixating on ideas and concepts of a deity. Solving, even if only for myself, what it means to believe in a God, how I can best respect the earth I share with others, and how I can best fight bigotry – especially bigotry the Christian Church itself enacts and encourages.

Every moment since I knew I’d go to seminary has held a quiet, beautiful anticipation. At first, I was so giddy, drunk on the delight and anticipation that I worried I’d lose my ability to be mindful of the present.  

The joy slept, dormant, waking every few weeks to leave me randomly ecstatic.

So much of this experience has been joyful. The first seminary I researched happened to be the one I visited, applied to, got accepted into and am attending in the fall.

I had no idea how to break this to my family, during the months that led up to my subsequent seminary visit.

Anyone who knows me knows I’m prone to extremes, and leaving my Christian high school left no doubt in their minds that I’d never trust a religious institution with my personal or intellectual growth.

I didn’t know how to tell them that I just knew. That there was a logic to it, but what attracted me more than the logic was the gut feeling. There has never been a deep doubt in my mind about this decision.

Everything about the process of applying, interviewing, visiting and waiting calmed me.

I’m going to continue celebrating my personal healing and the next portion of my life.

I hope that everyone can find healing, whether that does or does not involve any religion for you. I hope that, above all else, all of my fellow students find a future for themselves that gives them hope and happiness.

Because who doesn’t love getting MORE instructions and/or opinions on finals week, here’s a top ten of my favorite forms of exam-anxiety. For extra spice, I’ve added a few that are more exam-depression than exam-anxiety, but who cares? Tomay-toe, toh-mah-toe.

1 – My Final is on a Day and at a Time

Your trusty sidekick, forgetfulness, and its younger sibling, Is-Time-Real-Though, both of which pop up at the most irritating times. Sure, you’ve written down the time and day of the final exam in what, three different places? It’s on all your calendars, paper and virtual. You’ve even told your mom – but you can’t be too sure, right?

2 – It Happened Once, So It’s Bound to Happen Again

One time, I was taking a language course and one of my fellow peers thought the final was later than it really was. One of us had to call him, and he rushed to the final. The exam waited for him – started a half hour late. Ever since, how many alarms do you turn on before the final? Four, five? Nope. Ten. Fifteen, if you’re feeling extra anxious – this is how roommates grow to hate you, millions of alarms blaring every morning.

3 – I Asked God to Strike Me Down, and They Listened

It’s a French test. Which means I’m just trying to memorize things correctly, and I don’t have a great memory for English, let alone French. Okay. So. I’m taking the test. And I get nauseous, right? Just a little stomach bug, no biggie. Except, next minute I’m vomiting in the bathroom. I managed to get the rest of the test done, but what if it happens again? What if I just up-chuck all over the exam? Is there a protocol for a student ruining their paper-copy via vomit? Do we want to know the answer?

4 – Do You Have an Embarrassing Ringtone? No? Don’t Worry, You Will

Listen. Listen, I don’t care what your ringtone is. I don’t care if you think it’s the best thing in the world. I don’t care if it’s a John Mulaney bit – even the one where he sings about bread and Jesus. If it goes off during finals, either everyone will laugh or glare. The professor might be chill about it, or they might take away your exam and promptly fail you. And then, you’ll never graduate… never find a job… or figure out what all of those questions in CTIs were trying to answer.

5 – You’re Allowed to Type Your Final? Time for Apple to Download Another Useless Update

Your screen goes black and doesn’t start back up. Your device runs out of battery. Your device decides to spontaneously restart, downloading a new update while it’s at it. Sometimes, if things are really bad, your laptop will let out a terrifying beeping that sounds like a dying fax machine. You don’t have your charger, and you’re just waiting for your device to die – almost worse than having it die automatically.

6 – Hand Cramps, Nature’s Intellectual Depressant

One time, a CTI instructor of mine, who preferred hand-written exams – in pen, no pencil – decided to laugh when one of his female students said her hand cramped easily, and did he have any advice for that? I didn’t know laughter was an appropriate response in a Critical-Thinking course, but what do I know? Imagine that: your hand cramps are so bad during a final, you can’t complete your exam. The professor, despite you previously believing a dialogue with them would be more intellectual than an animalistic cackle, only lets out the wailing shriek of hyena laughter. Your hands fell off during his response. You turn in your final, incomplete.

7 – There Is Only So Much Information I Can Ingest

It’s near depression at this point. You’re staring at your notes. You know them. You know the material. Every time you go over your book, your notes, your class notes, your friend’s class notes, your I’m Bored and Smart headache roars. Your anxiety screams that you’re a clueless fraud, but you’re too busy falling asleep to notice.

8 – There Is Only So Much Information I Can Ingest Part 2: The Loathing

I’ll be frank. We have all taken a class that is the most dull and boring and mindless thing. We don’t get it, we aren’t going to get it, but if we want to get out of here with a degree, we can’t not take it. So, we do. You’re blessed if it’s relatively simple, but if it’s not and/or you just don’t vibe with it, you’re screwed. See the above anxiety and depression, with the added Rage to End All Rages, wherein you cry angrily into your notes. When you go to bed that night, you can’t sleep, burning with indignant rage. You then dream about accidentally sleepwalking to an airport and flying to another country.

9 – Exam Eve: The Depression

You don’t study. You’re too tired. Instead, you binge-watch all of the new She-Ra season. You have the theme song memorized, but that’s the only thing you can remember about anything in the history of the universe. Oh, and you’ve forgotten what room your exam is in, too.

10 – Exam Eve: The Panic Attack

I sincerely wish I was making this up. Sophomore year, December. Thursday night, and I’m in the middle of the second-worst panic attack night of my whole life. I am so convinced I’m on the verge of death that sleep is impossible and my heart races too fast. None of my friends are on campus. I get maybe two hours of sleep before going to both my finals and bombing them. The only lucid moment I have of those finals is when I’m standing in the middle of one of Jewell Hall’s staircases, half-dazed, half-delirious. I’m alive, I thought, waiting for my turn at the oral examination guillotine. I’m alive.

Hopefully no one has suffered all ten of these for an exam – I’d be delighted if no one could relate to any of these at all. However, I know most people I come into contact with are mutual balls of anxiety and stress, so I hope knowing that exams have been hellish for me helps you get through them this semester!

This week, I’m going to begin tackling self-care during exam times.

I know everyone with a laptop and/or a brain has opinions on how to keep yourself taken care of during stressful academic events. I also know that, had I thought about doing so, I would’ve either gorged myself on other people’s opinions or avoided them completely.

But, I’m not sure what kind of person you are. And, as we are nearing the end of the spring semester, important exams pile up like car wrecks in a construction zone.

Maybe hearing something from a fellow student will help, though?

I’m in my last year of undergrad, and I’m overwhelmed with final semester responsibilities.

For me, most of the overwhelmed feeling comes from the exams themselves – I tend to be fairly focused on one thing at a time, so my schedule isn’t teetering with several different activities so much as it is completely focused on rest, exam study and this semester’s coursework.

One of the things I’ve really come to understand deeply about myself through college stress is how much I don’t know and will not process at this time.

Yes, this realization is normally associated with panic and anxiety – rightfully so.

I don’t mean it in a disparaging or despairing way. I’ve come to accept that I have my limits for the tasks at hand, how much information I can retain before deadlines and how much I am reliant upon the progress I’ve made since my time as a first-year.

There is a limit to how much I can study. This limit was largely ignored until now.

So much of the academic setting thrives upon students stretching themselves wafer-thin while professors stack responsibility on responsibility, carelessly neglecting their health.

So much of the academic setting also has various nuances to this situation beyond the aforementioned example.

What neither party frequently acknowledges is that there is a limit to what can be expected of the student. Sure, we don’t need every professor bluntly stating respect for our limits, but wouldn’t it be nice?

I think that growth within the student body, especially at Jewell – our Critical Thinking College – ought to include a sense of self-knowledge, the encouragement of students to know themselves, not just life’s hard questions.

Of course, adults will roll their eyes at the mere suggestion of teaching students something as trite as personal as self-knowledge. What a wimpy, melted snowflake!

However, I believe that in order to push the limits of what we do know and how we think and approach issues, we need to be more acquainted with ourselves as humans. Humans with imperfections and limits.

I don’t cram for my exams as much as I used to. I know that part of this is due to the nature of my exams; however, the moments of forced calm before the storm are bizarre.

I am very much the type of person to over-study, to try and overcompensate for my goldfish memory – the very opposite of a Godsend when it comes to exams relying upon memorization.

So, on the recent nights before my exams, I know that I have done enough studying. I will not retain more – I am not the sort of person that can retain information well like that.

It is nearly impossible to fully discover, in our current academic setting, whether the studying choices we make are totally informed by knowing how to take care of ourselves or by years and years of learning how to perform for tests, how to cram knowledge and hope for the best.

We will never truly know because we have been entrenched in an academic cultural setting that prizes student suffering – the normalization of all-nighters, barely eating, barely sleeping.

For me, one of the most helpful steps to counteract this training has been acknowledging my limits.

There’s only so much I will be able to retain for my exams.

There’s only so much you will be able to retain.

Try not to get bogged down in moralizing, debating whether this is good or bad.

Sometimes, things exist without clear indications of right or wrong. Sometimes, we need to listen to our bodies about what behaviors we have normalized.

In this season of stressful exams, papers, presentations, etc., remember your limits. Acknowledge them, and do the best you can.