Weeks ago I read an article by Jenny Anderson on Quartz that struck me in an unexpected and quite strange way. The author wrote about spending a large part of her life pursuing her dreams, success and accomplishments, and then stepped away from such relentless and fierce pursuits once she recognized the significance of being a part of something - the value of community. It’s not only about people who “bring lasagna when things fall apart and champagne when things go well”, she wrote.
“Community is also an insurance policy against life’s cruelty; a kind of immunity against loss and disappointment and rage. My community will be here for my family if I cannot be. And if I die, my kids will be surrounded people who know and love them, quirks and warts and oddities and all.”
It’s a sensible life stage choice, when you’re in your forties with a family to take care of and you’re in a financially secure place. That’s when people get fed up with endless personal development and dream chasing, as it loses its satisfaction over time, as written New York Times columnist David Brooks in his article The Moral Peril of Meritocracy.
Now you see why it’s bizarre when a reader like me - a nomadic incoming graduate with zero stability in any aspects of my life, except responsibility for me and my hard-worn suitcases, can relate so much with her.
That was when I was living in Hong Kong, the city of dreams and failures and money and youth and all that. There is a lot to be said about such a city of people speeding to make it in or out of the subway doors, grinding over the weekend and freaking out when approached by strangers on the street. However, I am at a loss for words when people ask me those frequently asked questions: How was Hong Kong? Did you like it?
Then I found a quote on Tumblr which does the work better than I can:
“Cities, like dreams, are made of desires and fears, even if the thread of their discourse is secret, their rules are absurd, their perspectives deceitful, and everything conceals something else.”
— Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities
Desires and fears are very subtle things and well concealed.
Those are the things my Cantonese flat mate and I discussed over a bottle of champagne after a hard work day. Then she told me why she decided to move back from UK instead of grinding harder, hustle faster like every millennial is told in every motivation speech and slogan. It was around 3am when she got back from the bar, not too drunk but not sober enough to stay on her feet in the bathroom and took a fall on her back. She was lying there in pain, couldn’t fight strength to get up or her voice to scream for help, not that someone will hear it and come rescue her.
Quite a dramatic thought, she said I felt if I died tonight or whatever happened to me, no one will know.
In retrospect, it’s easy to dissolve such irrational and overly emotional thoughts and say that “it’s not that serious”.
But I totally understand her feelings, having been on my own and constantly finding myself alone in a new city for almost three years.
Is it “lonely” that the Quartz author mentioned? I think she got it right there.
In this day and age, as millennials we are free from most of the old-age suffering and enjoy the benefits of global connections, and still we struggle being millennials. BBC has published an article on the younger generations face chronic fatigue nowadays and people jumped into comment section saying “how snowflaky”.
As millennials, we were told to never give up on your dreams, to grit and grind every single day, and good things only come to those who hustle. While having the privilege of connecting with almost any one online, we also suffer from the very downside of peer pressure, multiplied in shape and size. And yet no one ever told us to slow down, make friends, build relationships and your support system. The people who will check in on you when you’re absent in class three days in a row. Who will pick your parents up at the airport when you can’t make it.
Back in Saigon, I had a chat with another millennial friend, we reminisced the old days and shared our life goals. For her, it wasn’t a salary raise or wealth accumulation. It was to be able to circumvent “life cruelty” against her loved ones.
So I am not alone in feeling the need to build a network of support, not only for my very own sake but also for my immediate family. And I will bet that many other international students will side with me, based on the increasing depression rate among international students in many countries, on the two suicides that I know of since the first year of university.
In The Present Writer’s blog, she urged that foreigner students build their support system, from close friends to consulting centres to communities, no matter online or offline to fall back on for a more fulfilling and less terrifying overseas experience.
“I want to do less and be more.”
That’s something Anderson said in her article that I found tremendously powerful and inspiring, when it comes to finding your chosen big family. Besides the tireless pursuits of personal development, make the time to show up and be present, for both others and you. A drink after work. A birthday dinner. A catch up lunch.
That’ll be a good start.
P.s: If you're struggling, reah out to a crisis helpline for foreigners in Finland: (09) 4135 0510
