I’m about as tech savvy as a houseplant. Despite this, I’m taking an Intro to Auto-CAD for interior design, which is a software used to help draft floor plans. To summarize the software, It took me about fifteen minutes to figure out how to draw a line. A line. Of course, my Professor is extremely knowledgeable and kind, and she even gave us a large stack of paper to every student in our first class. She dubbed the daunting novel of information our “CAD Bibles’, which would have every command we would use in the semester.
The second class we had, she gave us four assignments- one of which being to capture a front, side, and top angle of a bookshelf using measurements provided. Despite the seemingly simple directions, I saved it for last, as the other assignments were slightly easier and would take less time. Finally, the night before it was due, I opened the assignment and began my attempt. Immediately, I regretted ever downloading the software onto my computer. I also wanted to punch a bookshelf. Maybe my mind was overloaded from a three hour Japanese Language class a few hours before that had me unable to think in English or Japanese, but none of the directions made any kind of sense- there weren’t the right measurements, the commands were betraying me- even my ‘CAD Bible’ was of little help- and through all of it, the bookshelf sat on the directions page on my other monitor, taunting me.
After about half an hour of no progress, I realized I had two options- Try to do my best on the assignment tonight and hope my professor has mercy, or talk to her after our class the next day and try to figure out what I was doing wrong. Now, to most people, the answer is obvious- the Professor, the educated person who knows the software like the back of her hand, would be able to assist me and answer my questions with ease. I, however, am not ‘most people’.
One of my biggest struggles with my own mental health is learning to ask for help. I usually prefer to do things on my own, even when they’re not exactly a one-person job. So, of course, in realizing that the reasonable, logical option in this situation was to openly ask for help and admit to my confusion with the software, I panicked a little. And by ‘a little’, I mean I basically broke down the door of my twin’s room, asking for his advice. After I gave him the rundown and talked about my choices, he said; “Seems like you already know what to do, you just don’t want to admit that asking for help is the smarter choice. Right?”
Being the polite and amazing sister I am, I thanked him for his advice- Did I throw a pillow at him beforehand? Maybe. But I thanked him nonetheless, then proceeded to toss and turn in my bed until three A.M., unable to quiet my mind at the sheer thought of looking stupid in front of my peers and professor. Still, when the next morning finally came, I hesitantly rose from my bed and dragged myself into my car to drive to class. Of course, my day being what it was, I blew a flat tire on the way to class and ended up stumbling in almost 20 minutes late. So by the time class ended, I was an absolute nervous wreck.
I stayed behind after students filed out and she asked me if I needed some help. I, very quietly, explained my issues with the assignment. She said, “Oh! You just have this one setting off, hang on…” then clicked one button, and all of the sudden everything was working the way it was supposed to. Oh. My. Gosh. I had spent all that time worrying for the solution to be one button. I felt dumb, of course, but my Professor was incredibly kind and told me students make mistakes all the time, and the settings can be confusing to figure out.
So, to make an already incredibly long story short, I turned in the assignment on time and got full points. More than that, however, was that I had managed to ask the Professor for help without having an absolute breakdown, which I considered to be a larger victory.
Some days, I don’t really consider my progress with my mental health to be, well, progress. I can be so busy looking forward to the future of ‘what’s next’ that I forget to look back every once and a while, to actually admire the journey I’ve made to where I am now. That day, however, while I originally thought I was proving how much I still struggled, proved instead that I was capable of asking for help. Because, sometimes, all it takes is drawing a bookshelf.
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