Look — I’m not a therapist. I’m not a psychologist or psychiatrist or anything of the like. But I am a human being, and though young, I’ve been through some hard things in my life. I’ve been bullied, I’ve grieved, I’ve loved, I’ve lost, etc.,. I’ve been in some really deep ruts, and there have been times when I’ve found myself swallowed up in waves of despair, anger and other feelings.

I used to let myself wallow in these emotions until they worked themselves out of my system, but as I enter this new phase of life, I’ve found this strategy to be less and less useful and perhaps even a detriment to my well-being. Usually, I have a tendency to be sensitive and maybe even a little saccharine at times, but I’m not here to coddle anyone this time.

Sitting in your feelings is killing you.

For the sake of not beating a dead horse, I’ll use this example as a cautionary tale one final time. In the last semester, I developed clinical insomnia that disrupted my entire life.

I couldn’t sleep for more than two hours a night on average, and when I did fall asleep, it was when my day ought to have started, which led to missing classes, assignments and social gatherings. I was failing one of my classes and falling behind in every area of my life, and there was a moment when I was just lying in bed in the dark asking myself,

“What is the point of all of this? Why am I here?”

I was crying almost every day — I’m not afraid to admit that as a man or in general. I was listening to folklore, American Heartbreak, Virgin and Born and Raised on a constant loop. I stopped praying for a while because I didn’t know how to talk to God if I couldn’t even talk to myself.

I didn’t recognize myself, and I didn’t understand why I couldn’t live up to the person I used to be under these uncontrollable circumstances that I swore I could bend to my will.

I was habitually allowing myself to wake up and choose sadness before I even started my day. It’s not to say that I wasn’t genuinely depressed — I was — rather, I wasn’t giving myself any grace to understand what was making me feel this way or how to stop it. I wanted to feel my feelings until I didn’t anymore, but no one teaches you how to plan for an exit strategy from yourself.

When I finally came out of my spiral, it wasn’t because the sun suddenly started shining or my problems all miraculously resolved — I remember waking up the morning I was moving out of my dorm for the semester and looking at myself thinking, “That’s not me. That’s not Riley.” And I wanted to understand how I’d fallen so far.

In that moment of disgust, I managed to step outside of myself. I realized that I needed to become a student of my emotions — I needed to study myself to fully understand what was happening to me.

I began examining certain patterns I had and started trying to disrupt them. The sad music I was listening to? Tempered with happy and upbeat music, even when it didn’t match my mood. If I felt like I was going to cry, instead of immediately giving way, I went to write in my journal until I could make some semblance of sense of my feelings, and if I still needed to cry afterward, I did. I practiced giving myself advice as if I were another person to see if I could console myself.

I took a hard look at myself and began learning how to give myself grace, something I used to laugh at my mom for constantly telling me to do because I felt it was out of reach — that I was already giving myself too much grace and should have everything figured out immediately or not at all. Shocker — my mom was right and I was wrong.

When you feel overwhelmed, confused or unsure of yourself, it’s okay to feel. It’s not okay to let your feelings destroy you with no recourse. Sometimes the only way out is going through, not going under.

So take a deep breath, and attempt to step outside of yourself. Study yourself. Look in the mirror and ask yourself, “Why?” and don’t stop asking until you have an answer.

Riley Sanders is a 19-year-old biology major from Denham Springs, La.