This Is Us
Over spring break, students at the Stanford GSB mobilized to tackle the challenges of the COVID-19 crisis. I saw emails from classmates helping organizations across the world in dire straits, sending aid to people working at local businesses, finding fun ways to emulate the in-person social activities we’d come to hold so dear. It was awesome seeing so many people rally together to have a global impact.
But, as the quarter continued, I started to feel a gap. Amidst all the inbox activity, I wasn’t finding anything to help with the issue that was most top of mind for me. The problem was that I was on a daily emotional rollercoaster ride. I could anticipate how I was going to feel the next day with about as much accuracy as I could guess the plot twists of This is Us.
I was constantly apologizing for what felt like my own ineptitude. I was drained by the online class format. The melting boundaries between work, sleep, and play took their toll on my ability to relax. I felt alone. My mind was always racing. I constantly felt some mix of small, useless, or guilty.
Was it just me? Was everyone else totally fine, and going on with business as usual? It looked to me like so many were still starting companies, forming life-long friendships, and finding time to stay in impeccable shape. It seemed that COVID-19 was yet another obstacle-turned-opportunity that so many would get to talk about in their next job interviews.
I quickly realized that it was definitely not just me. The more I spoke with classmates and shared my anxieties, the more times I heard, “yes, YES! That’s what I’m going through, too!”
Many of our big exciting plans turned into big daunting questions. We’re worrying about the safety of family and the durability of our relationships. Often we weigh the merits of reaching out to others against the fatigue of another Zoom call. We feel days go by without genuine joyful connection to others.
For many of us, the feelings of uncertainty and isolation didn’t start with COVID-19. Long before, there was the self doubt, the imposter syndrome, the fear of missing out. “Am I the admissions mistake?”, we’d ask ourselves. “Am I going to find my people here?”
COVID-19 has seemed to dial these discomforts up to another level.
When you think about it, it’s a totally normal reaction. A group of high-achieving people who are typically in control, at the top of their class, hitting their goals, can suddenly control nothing.
So, how do we help each other right now? How do we be there for our classmates without actually physically being there? The options are many. I chose peer support.
The idea of a peer support group came to me from an industry I’ve been exploring over the last year: psychedelic assisted psychotherapy. Peer support groups are prominent, in part, because psychedelic substances are currently illegal, and those who engage depend on peers to help navigate the experiences. Many of these people are seeking a cure for their depression, addiction, PTSD, and other mental health illnesses.
While I was not able to offer my classmates psychedelics, I was able to create a peer support group for the GSB, called IntraMural, which provides a space to anonymously share our mental health stories and validate each other’s emotions. In the process, I was equally inspired by the incredible speakers who visit the GSB and share motivational, moving, quotable advice. Often these nuggets of wisdom are translated into gorgeous graphics. You know what I’m talking about:
My hope is that through IntraMural showcasing our raw feelings in a similar light, we see that moments of pure honesty and vulnerability are equally impressive. Hearing so many classmates’ stories has been heartbreaking at times, and has also filled me with hope. Overwhelmingly, it has brought relief that I am not alone.
We’re at a big business school with a big mission. We constantly assess total addressable markets and discern whether opportunities are big enough to scale. Sometimes, that leaves a gap between our big, bold ideas for the future and the immediate, very human needs of our bodies and minds.
Typically, this gap is filled by each other — our community. But right now, we’re feeling its absence in a big way, especially in our mental health.
What I have learned from the many, beautiful IntraMural submissions is that there are a lot of people struggling with mental health within our community. There are people at risk of losing loved ones. People facing paralyzing anxiety. People who just want some hugs. But, it can be hard for us to know who’s hurting. We’re so damn good at pulling it together. As we try to solve problems locally and globally, let’s also remember the most local community of all that brought us together in the first place — the GSB. There is value in the small things, acts of love and vulnerability that tie us together and make our community stronger. They might not change the world, but they might change someone’s world, and to me, that’s enough.
Follow IntraMural on Instagram and share your story here.
