I’ve been assigned countless nicknames: Jeff-Jeff, Jefferson, Cheffrey, Mr. Frog, Blue Shirt Guy and even Unc. But, one that sticks with me in particular is “Dude that is definitely getting robbed on the street.”
Okay, no one has actually called me that, but I imagine that’s what goes through many of my friends’ heads as they painstakingly stop me in my tracks to do a simple, yet ever so meaningful gesture: zip up my backpack.
On the final day of school last year, I realized how much I took those moments for granted. I woke up in a sweat that morning to headspin harder than I ever did in Mr. Dewees’ class, and my clock stared right back at me: 7:46 a.m. As if I was in a reimagining of “1984,” I bolted downstairs — without having brushed my teeth or made my breakfast — for yet another clock to stare at me. But, this one read 7:26 a.m., reminding me again that I forgot to set this alarm to the right time for weeks.
Wind in my hair, winded in my soul, I J-walked through the street past all the cars headed to school — until my legs finally gave out. With my Canon R50 camera, for some reason, ricocheting around my neck, I superman-dived onto the red ant-infested pavement to protect it, splitting both my hands and skinning both my knees. And, as you could guess, my backpack was wide open: My everything spilled out of it.
Sheepishly, I hobbled and bled all the way down to my first period class, CCT. Just when I was about to enter, I doubled back. ‘I should probably go to the nurse,’ I told myself.
Simply put, this happened because I was so sleep deprived. After all, I was on maybe two hours of sleep from having attempted to make all my teachers thank-you cards the night before, most of which never ended up making it into my backpack. But really, I wasn’t taking care of myself enough.
Oftentimes, I feel that many people, like myself, get so entangled in the belief that if we don’t attain something immediately, that opportunity becomes gone like the wind. In an effort to cling to this mindset of resilience and perseverance and to ease the pressure of many adults in my life, I convince myself that everything will be okay if I work as hard as I can.
Needless to say, my backpack, overflowing with enough granola bars, hand sanitizers and Owala bottles to ward off any zombie apocalypse, speaks for itself on my fear of being unprepared and useless. So, that’s why I transitioned to fanny packs. On a serious note, though, grit is a great motto to live by. However, it needs balance. If you strive to carry too much than your backpack can handle, how can you possibly make room for yourself?
Slowly but surely, I’ve begun taking a step back and assuring myself it’s okay to relax. If I didn’t take the steps to support my own life, I wouldn’t be here today. So, don’t push yourself to the point of having to save yourself by superman-diving onto the sidewalk. Be there for yourself, and know your limits and boundaries. Believe me: You have nothing to prove to anyone. Just have faith in yourself, and you will find that you are more successful than you thought you were.
So, when you walk back into Conestoga next fall — or whatever destination you may be approaching — always remember to invest in yourself: the underdog staple you’ve always underestimated. Because sometimes, overcoming life’s curveballs is just a matter of learning how and when to zip up your backpack. It’s the most “pioneer” thing you can do.
Jeffery Heng can be reached at [email protected].
