A New Line of Thinking
March 18, 2024
Writer: Olivia Richie
Editor: Lexie Meltzer
Back in middle school, I was just beginning to uncover my passion and curiosity for math when I first learned the equation of a line:
y = mx + b
A simple computation, straightforward and clear to me. Over the years, I learned variations of this same model, but they were all pretty much the same: a simple model for a simple idea.
So, when my professor for multivariable calculus proudly announced to my class that he would be teaching us how to write the equation for a line, I couldn’t help but chuckle with the rest of the class... until I realized that he wasn’t joking.
With a beat in his step, my professor hopped over to his chalkboard and set the scene: graphs and tables and vectors presented using the notation I had seen hundreds of times before. Nothing new. But, slowly, with his intuitive comments and multiple rigorous yet insightful derivations, I watched a story unfold: an idea that I believed to be basic and straightforward was being explained in a way that I had never seen before. By the end of class, I not only had a new understanding and perspective on this previously simple concept, but I realized that the lecture had opened a door for me; I discovered that I could now solve problems that I previously believed to be incredibly difficult–perhaps even impossible–with just a bit of intuition from a single lecture.
By the end of class, I had tears in my eyes (I know, what a nerd). After I went up and shook my professor's hand, thanking him for a wonderful lecture, I silently left the class to process what I can only describe as an unexpected moment of motivation–a glimmer of hope.
For context, I took that calculus class in my second semester of freshman year. At that time, my mental health was at the lowest it had ever been. Each day was a fight just to get out of bed, eat, or even bathe myself–a struggle which, unfortunately, is not uncommon. Up until that pivotal moment, I felt as if I had tried everything; I had visited 3 separate therapists, tested dozens of combinations of medications and doses, reached out to mental health resources all over campus, and exhausted myself with different apps, meditations, and more. My mental illness felt like a problem that was completely and utterly unsolvable.
After that lecture, however, I started to wonder if, like my understanding of math, maybe there was something I was missing. For the first time, I felt a spark of hope ignite flames within me. So, carrying that sentiment, I pushed harder to explore alternatives and eventually visited a new psychiatrist. After a long list of questions, tests, and crying to this stranger over Zoom, she revealed a new part of the problem that had never been brought to my attention before: She diagnosed me with OCD.
There it was. Just like my mathematical knowledge, the understanding I had of my mental health was incomplete, and had made solving those problems appear to be impossible. Now, finally, I had the missing piece of the puzzle.
Perhaps now more than ever, I hear the voices of people around me who share their feelings of hopelessness. I understand this feeling–I know what it’s like to have struggled for so long that you don’t remember the good from before. I know how it feels for things to get worse when you try to make them better. I know how hard it is to resist that toxic voice telling you that nothing will ever change.
But, most importantly, I now also know that things will get better–you just have to keep going.
I know this is easier said than done; even after I had this realization, there was still plenty of hard work for me to do. But for the first time, I was making progress. I was given a new set of strategies to work on, new medicine, new outlooks. I wasn’t a lost cause.
These certainties we convince ourselves of–that we are unlovable, unfixable, unable–are not set in stone. The goal is not to push against these sentiments, but rather, to discover why we are experiencing the block. From there, we can develop better strategies–ones that are actually helpful–and establish a new line of thinking...
...and if you are me, you can plot that line, too!
Image: Jules Bonanno
