I can’t tell you when it began.

Maybe I just slipped without noticing, losing just a little bit of the already precarious hold I have. Perhaps I lost focus one day, and everything went spiralling down.

I am so stressed.

Now, I am a little embarrassed to admit this, because some upperclassmen in Arts have talked about how they never had anything to do in first year (what on earth?!) and everyone thinks we’re supposed to be really chill and smoke weed and talk about how things are gnarly and so rad. I also feel bad because I probably have no idea what the kids in engineering feel. Maybe I just have crappy time management skills. Maybe I need to step my game up.

But I digress. Possible reasons aside, I’m tired. I’m not lucky enough to be able to function without many hours of sleep like some. I am a creature of rest. I am a monster of snores. I thrive on being dead to the world. Now I fall asleep in classes, and I even missed one shift in the cafeteria because I couldn’t wake up (yes, it’s the 7am one. Worst decision I’ve made so far, taking that shift). The worst part is that the more I’m stressed, the more I don’t want to do work. And when I have uncompleted work, I go berserk. It’s a vicious cycle.

“I just want to sleep, you know.” I’d say to myself, near tears. The blank page in Microsoft Word would mock me with its glaring brightness.

And then the walls would start laughing and calling me names, saying I’m crazy for talking to myself. Then I’d defend myself, you know, because the wall was talking to itself as well, talk about the pot calling the kettle black. Or stainless steel. But apparently they were talking to my dresser. And that’s when I knew I had gone bonkers, because the dresser is usually silent.

Maybe my past self did something right for once – she foretold my mental breakdown and signed up for a session with a dog in the UBC Wellness Center in Irving.

Now, Wednesdays are intensely busy for me. When I don’t oversleep, I wake up at 6.30am, work, have an hour’s break, and head to back-to-back classes until 4. The dog visits are only between 12 – 1 on Wednesdays, and that so happens to be the same time as my Sociology class. But screw that, I thought. I want to see a dog. You have no idea how much I love dogs. Every time I see someone walking their gorgeous little pooch on campus, I want to run up and play with them, and it takes all of my energy and lots of squealing just to restrain myself. So boo to Sociology.

(Disclaimer: This is not the right attitude to have towards your classes. Please attend lectures diligently.)

(If you’re my prof or TA and you’re somehow reading this AND know who I am… I’m sorry.)

In case you didn’t know, you can sign up to play with a dog for 10 minutes every day in the Wellness Center. You can get more information here.

This is Jasmine

This adorable little cockapoo nearly licked my hand off. I was so overjoyed to be able to actually play with a dog for once that I flew into that room and went all maternal and started speaking in my doggy voice.

“Who’s a good girl? Who’s a good girl?”

The essays and readings may be piling up, but don’t forget to take some time to relax. Maybe you like to jog (which is something I cannot identify with at all, I’m sorry), or maybe you like singing at the top of your lungs or killing pixels in the shape of humans (this I identify with). Being 20 minutes late to Sociology and busting into the lecture like James Bond, and having people give me dirty looks was completely worth spending time with Jasmine.

What do you like to do to relax?

(I like to eat to de-stress, which just ends up making me depressed and angry when I gain weight, which makes me want to eat again…. )