Harvard, Ten Years Later
A journey of resilience, identity, and mental health. From SAT struggles to bipolar diagnosis, this is my Harvard story
Ten years ago I was studying for the SAT.
My first score in the English section was 420 out of 800, yet I was convinced that I had a spot secured at Harvard. I was confident that I was destined to be part of the Class of 2018. I envisioned myself there. I was convinced that I possessed the qualities required for admission, even when my scores suggested otherwise.
This unshakable belief, rooted in the idea that somehow the universe had already decided that I would reach my goal, served as the driving force behind my self-confidence, pushing me through the rigorous and demanding application process.
I embraced my identity as a first-gen, low-income, international, public-school-educated, LGBTQ+, student of color, hailing from the poorest and most populous city in the Santiago Metropolitan area. I took immense pride in my background, never feeling any shame associated with it. Whenever the opportunity arose, I would actively bring it up in conversations. My disadvantaged upbringing instilled in me a sense of merit that I believed surpassed that of many of my Harvard peers. I felt a rightful belonging at Harvard. It was exactly where I was meant to be.
Yet, frequently recalling the challenges I overcame to reach Harvard proved insufficient.
The stark contrasts in social class, language, experiences, conversations, pursuits, and family support between my classmates and me highlighted the vast disparities in our life journeys. The social class distinctions ingrained in my worldview from growing up in Chile — where status was defined by family name, school attended, job, neighborhood, and, significantly, skin color — resurfaced with an intensity that struck me at every turn on campus. It reached a breaking point where I began to harbor a deep resentment towards Harvard and the U.S. as a whole, feeling the weight of societal divides that echoed the inequalities I witnessed while coming of age in Chile.
I found myself envious of my classmates’ lives, even those who shared similar backgrounds — immigrants to the U.S., Latinx, international students, or those with DACA. It seemed that their pre-Harvard experiences had facilitated a smoother transition than mine, often accompanied by the support of their parents. In stark contrast, my decision to leave the nest was met with disapproval from my parents. Upon getting accepted to Harvard, I saw many students on Instagram posting their family celebrations for having been accepted. In my case, my parents didn’t even offer a congratulatory word when I shared the news. It took several years for me to comprehend that the animosity, exacerbated by my Harvard experience, was rooted in my parents’ narcissism, cult-induced mindset, and homophobia.
I hit rock bottom.
Following a manic episode that led to eight days in a psychiatric ward in Belmont, MA — characterized by hallucinations, delusions, and paranoia, leaving my credit cards maxed out — I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder type I. This marked a significant turning point. It was the summer after sophomore year. Everything changed with that diagnosis: it became the lens through which I began to understand myself and the world around me. I’m profoundly grateful for my boyfriend for being there with me during that difficult time.
I took three leaves of absence, a decision with considerable consequences for international students like myself, involving the cancellation of visas and the need to navigate the reapplication process upon return. The first instance occurred after my initial semester when I returned to Chile and was diagnosed with Major Depression, prompting me to forego the subsequent spring term. Following a year and a half working at a nonprofit, I resumed studies during a fall semester, and the subsequent three years proved to be incredibly rewarding. Despite the challenges, I harbor no regrets about taking that initial time off. My second leave of absence spanned three semesters, during which I dedicated my time to teaching in Malaysia. Upon my return to Cambridge, I was diagnosed with ADHD late in the semester, resulting in academic struggles and eventual withdrawal due to failing all classes. It has been two years since then, and I’ve recently discovered that I am on the Autism Spectrum. Currently, my focus is on actively managing my mental health.
However, not everything was challenging during my time at Harvard. I followed my instincts and pursued what genuinely interested me, disregarding societal expectations. I joined the Harvard Marching Band, where I played drums at football games hosted by UPenn, Princeton, and Brown. Opting for a path less traveled, I switched my major from neuroscience to sociology and clinched the first prize in The Harvard Undergraduate Journal for my research focusing on individuals like myself — international, first-generation students at Harvard.
To make ends meet, I took on diverse roles, working as a barista at Lamont Library Café, cleaning bathrooms and student dorms with Dorm Crew, and serving as a tour guide at the Visitor Center. These jobs allowed me to afford occasional plane tickets to visit my boyfriend in California, leading me to explore places like New York City, Miami, Las Vegas, Phoenix, Tijuana, San Diego, Los Angeles, Mexico City, Buenos Aires, Barranquilla, Guayaquil (for a Shakira concert), Istanbul, Tallin, and Helsinki during breaks. I even had the opportunity to visit my boyfriend’s hometown in Montana. Despite having the means to return to Chile every break, opting to align my choices with personal desires rather than conforming to external expectations brought about a profound sense of liberation.
Harvard, despite its immense diversity, felt like a small bubble, and I yearned for a broader perspective. I embarked on a journey to expand my horizons, spending a summer in Malaysia teaching refugees. The subsequent semester led me to study abroad in Egypt, and I returned to Malaysia for a year of teaching. In that singular year, I had the incredible opportunity to explore Japan, Singapore, Laos, Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, Malaysia, Macau, Hong Kong, Indonesia, India, Nepal, Maldives, Qatar, Turkey, Lebanon, Egypt, Greece, Russia, South Korea, Taiwan, and Brazil. From the vantage point of my background, such experiences were beyond the realm of imagination, even in one’s Wildest Dreams (Taylor’s Version).
Today, my circumstances have taken a significant turn. While I anticipate returning to Harvard to complete my degree, my current focus is wholeheartedly committed to nurturing my mental well-being and discovering my voice through writing. By sharing my journey, I aim to inspire others, hoping that the narrative will serve as motivation and play a role in fortifying self-confidence.
