19 minute read
health
Photographed by Hanlin (Nancy) Yuan Design by Stella Drews-Sheldon and Chloe Williams Modeled by Lauren Ishikawa Sara Kelley Blu Xu
Advertisement
THE SHADOW OF YOUTH THE SHAD OW OF YOUTH T SHADOW OF YOUTHI still can’t pinpoint when I first stopped seeing myself as a child. It was somewhere between falling asleep to classical music and stirring hose water with pebbles in the woods behind my house. Our twenties feel raw with the realization that we occupy a space in which we are expected to fold inward instead of expanding. Childhood becomes a second shadow, moving with our bodies in and out of the light. Always behind us, shifting with the sun of our adult egos and whims. It’s odd to know that I spend my life chasing that feeling I had when I was maybe seven or eight. I remember swimming in the bend of a mountain stream in Tennessee. Every time I dove off a cliff, I felt like I was growing new bones and breaking the old ones. I think I might have been braver then than I am now; no cliff seemed too daunting, and the cold felt new instead of numbing. I find myself envying her for the newness of the space she carved in the world like initials on a tree. Every memory I hold with me from my youth is partially a matter of pure chance. I think the other half of it is that I believed in magic without knowing it. THE SHADOW OF YOUTH by Kaitlyn Joyner 36
THE SHADOW OF YOUTH THE SHAD OW OF YOUTH T SHADOW OF YOUTH But the truth is, I still had worries then. I was afraid of my swimsuit falling off when I made big jumps, and I feared how my own body felt so distinct from me, like a floating hand. Like many of us as children, I was eager to fill the shape of adulthood. I pictured it as a new level of autonomy drawn in the glimmering, naive colors of imagined spontaneity and ensured self-sufficiency. Little did I know that I already had the freedom I desired in a different manifestation, or that adulthood would feel like nothing more than a performance where I was a perpetual imposter. As the clock turns on our birthdays, we aren’t imparted with any new wisdom; we become adults with the roots of a child. Yet, we are expected to have left our youth locked in a drawer as we step into a binding relationship with society: time in exchange for money and money in exchange for moments of reprieve. It can feel like there’s little room for uninhibited joy, for play, for ease; even in careers centered around creativity, it can become difficult to avoid the pressure of the world’s expectations surrounding our art. Senior photographer and creative writing major Chloé Nanian shares her view of how adulthood has been framed in the modern day. “I feel like adulthood is kind of a heavy thing,” she says. For many people, adulthood feels like it takes on a different tempo than childhood, demanding constant productivity and progress towards money, career and connections. When asked how she channels her inner child into healing in her adult life, Nanian explains, “I give myself time to breathe — I feel like as a child you have so much time to do that, and you take it for granted.” From walks in her neighborhood to doodling and photography, Nanian uses downtime to honor her inner child’s needs. It can become exhausting to constantly uphold these expectations of maturity, productivity, and creation — which is why it is important to find moments to simply be. To sit and allow our imaginations to hold us, the way we did when we were children. 37
But there are also ways to morph adulthood beyond its societal limits, to bend it into a form that resembles what we long for. Sometimes, it’s easier to think of our younger selves when learning how to make our adult selves happy. What enthralled our child selves most: staying up late, new stuffed animals, coloring, dancing, singing, playing dress-up, running at recess, making wishes on dandelions? Everything lies in how we can recreate those moments now while still using our adult privileges to pursue life in a way the child versions of us couldn’t. “I’m able to be an authentic version of myself that little me wasn’t able to be,” Nanian continues. As we navigate the world and unearth more about ourselves and what possibilities surround us, it’s easier to embody the kind of people our younger selves admired from afar; in that sense, we are more authentically our child selves than ever as young adults.
Though it can be easy to neglect the many histories our bodies contain, navigating the space between our past and present selves is something that can allow for catharsis and growth. Writing, literature and publishing major Gabriella Perez has recently begun to reconnect with her inner child, allowing what she calls her “Inner Gab” to blossom in her adult life. Perez keeps her inner child in mind daily by dabbling purple and bejeweled items throughout her life, like an ode to the self she had always dreamed of being.
She describes her bittersweet childhood experience as a dedicated ballerina, from her initial dreams of being a professional to falling out of touch during high school. After happening upon her old ballet shoes while back home during a college break, she found herself moved by the image she found in the mirror.
“I ended up just putting on an old pair of tights I had, a leotard, and a skirt. I tried to pin my hair up into a bun as best as I could, and I threw on my pointe shoes,” she says. “ I looked at myself in the mirror and just started bawling…Something with my inner [child] was just so happy but also shocked to see myself there again. I couldn’t recognize myself. In those years, I had worked so hard on myself to completely forget who I was because I was so deeply embarrassed by it all.” She fondly described how she has recently resurfaced many childhood memories as a form of healing, becoming reacquainted with herself through little rituals like using a purple pen with a poof on the end.
Her moment in her childhood bedroom is what so many of us desire: to see ourselves in double, to reach out and merge with them. The differences become beautiful aches, ones that our little minds always longed for. We are proud, reminiscent beings before anything else.
Like Perez, I have oftentimes resurrected my own youth in defiance of my own body, letting my inner child show through in my bouncing walk, the stuffed animals on my bed, the way I see colors, clouds and soft things. I still drink green berry tea, sometimes with vanilla cream, the same thing my grandmother would make me in my miniature yellow teapot before afternoon kindergarten. Gently, forgivingly, I make room for the 2012 bedroom pop and bad fantasy books my teenage self adored. She was a child, too — a changeling who wanted nothing more than to be older. I’m making up for her lost time.
I got a tattoo of a fairy on my inner arm after turning 21. She sits on a hooked flower, palm to her face and a dainty tear on her cheek; she wears a blossom as a hat, and her dress winds around the stem of the flower she perches upon. Every time I look at her, I think of my seven-year-old body peering into hollowed tree stumps and checking for fairy mushroom rings in the fields I grew up next to, and I am reminded of where I have grown from. I wanted to hold that wonder in my limbs forever, alongside the ache that made me reach for that wonder again. The inked fairy on my skin is too precious and too undefined, so I can’t bring myself to name her.
We are often taught that growing up is a permanent thing, that age is something that happens to us rather than something that belongs to us once we have lived it. I know that I could not possibly hold things so dearly then as I do now. A table with miniature boats and canals full of clear, cold water; my grandmother French braiding my hair before afternoon kindergarten; holding pond frogs in my bare hands. I still crave people touching my hair, and I hold any creature I can without harming them. Adulthood is becoming a vessel for the memories you love more than ever now, as you look over your shoulder; living is the sacred process of reinventing them over and over again. I am a living locket. I open myself up to see fields of wildflowers, rainy skylights, a cracked lavender sled on a snowy hill, my brother swinging high above me in our backyard, the smell of summer heat against wood, strawberries with sugar on my grandparent’s porch, and small, shaky hands belonging to a girl too scared to write down her stories. I close the locket and run towards those things in my twenty-one-yearold body, letting the alignment of reality with memories simmer beneath my little beloved shadow.
THE POWER WITHIN
by Christina Horacio
Because of the pandemic, the need for mental health services has greatly increased. Although therapy can certainly be an invaluable resource, it can also prove to be inaccessible — whether it be an issue of cost, insurance, or just a lack of facilities. Personally, relocating from California to Massachusetts for school made finding a new therapist under the school’s insurance quite difficult. Because of this, I was on the search for other remedies for anxiety and depression. Meditation has always been something I have been told to try, but my anxious mind could never quite settle down enough to do so appropriately. However, I have found that alternate spiritual remedies, such as tarot and Reiki, are effective for myself and many other Emerson students.
My initial introduction to these “alternate” methods was tarot. Tarot is essentially a means of “fortune-telling” or divination through the use of a deck of cards — each having their own symbol and meaning. As someone who grew up in a Catholic household, anything within the realm of “witchcraft” was thoroughly discouraged. I was told that delving into the future and trying to unveil God’s plan was certainly a sin. But when a general tarot reading popped up on my YouTube recommended page, I couldn’t help but click. I ultimately figured that since I wasn’t going into some palm reading storefront, it didn’t count. I didn’t expect much, but somehow everything this reader said seemed to resonate deeply and bring me clarity on my situation.
Despite my initial apprehension, tarot became an invaluable resource to me. It became less about an obsession with telling the future and more about staying calm and present. Even if some higher force isn’t controlling what cards will fall, reading tarot is still a means of problem-solving. It allows me to think through any situation that is causing me pain or anxiety by having to interpret the situation according to the cards rather than just my limited perspective. Just sitting down, lighting a candle, playing music, and shuffling the cards has served to be a successful substitute for “standard” meditation.
Here at Emerson, there is an entire community of individuals that also share an interest in tarot. Emerson’s Mystic, a college-affiliated org, actually covers all things “metaphysical and witchy,” including tarot. They meet every Friday from 5-7 p.m..
Mystic member and freshman student, Abigail Anderson, said, “I didn’t really know anything about [tarot] until I joined Mystic. I didn’t really believe that it actually meant anything to me, but then I did my first reading at Mystic, and I just immediately fell in love with it. I just met a lot of fun people who gave me a lot of tips about it as well.”
Anderson equated tarot with remaining present as well. “It helps with being more aware of where you are in life. Being aware of your connections, relationships, and just how you approach people, and how you’re going to go about your day,” said Anderson.
Students can receive readings and learn how to conduct their own within Mystic. According to Anderson, “Mystic is a good starting step if someone really wants to go deeper into [tarot], and just other different forms of divination as well.”
In addition to tarot, I have found that the practice of Reiki can also be an effective alternative remedy. I spoke to El Levinson, a junior who is certified in Reiki.
“It’s a Japanese technique of energy healing. The word Reiki is made up of two Japanese words. There’s Rei, which is translated [as] the higher power of God’s wisdom, and Ki, which is life force. Put together, it’s a spiritually guided life force energy.” Levinson explained that this energy work is essentially used to “promote relaxation [and] stress reduction,” and can be performed hands-on or from a distance.
In regards to performing Reiki on others, Levinson said, “the body has energy sectors, and any trauma shows up as a block in the energy center. And so what Reiki does is it goes through the energy center and it makes it flow through, and clears it, [allowing] the energy center to be centered again.”
They received two certifications under Julie Taberman, a Reiki master based in Jamaica Plain. “[Through] using reiki, I have been able to kind of step into myself more confidently and feel more safe.”
Beyond making Levinson a “significantly happier person,” Reiki has helped them, physically, with everyday life.
“I’m a musical theater major, [so] I’m a pretty active human. If I know that I will be sore the next morning, I will set the intention; please release any soreness from my body. And most of the time, I wake up less sore than I would have if I hadn’t set the intention,” Levinson said.
R
I was able to experience Reiki for the first time, by booking a 20-minute Zoom session with them. They were able to do this through Zoom, because the energy can be channeled and sent to the receiver, regardless of distance — which is perfect for those who are worried about COVID-19.
What I found was that Levinson was right in saying Reiki is “magic.” I was able to feel the warm energy that they had passed through — something I was skeptical about beforehand. They also gave me the option to express which areas, physical or mental, that I would like to focus on. I notified them that I had been feeling more depressed than usual, and set the intention to alleviate that. I ended up resonating deeply with the messages that Levinson had channeled. They were able to identify the main issues I was dealing with at the time, with one being the blockage in my throat. This impressed me because it directly correlated with my inability to express my emotions at the time. Consequently, I left the session feeling positive, and much lighter in my chest than before. With that said, Reiki is definitely an effective method of alternative healing that I want to delve further into.
Those who are interested in exploring these alternate methods of healing can book a free Reiki session — and optional tarot reading with Levinson over Zoom by reaching out through Instagram (@el.levinson) or email (el_levinson@emerson.edu). Alternatively, they can be found on the wellness app, InsightTimer, by searching “El L.” InsightTimer is a free platform in which users can further engage with various types of meditations, readings, and Reiki sessions.
Anyone can benefit from the practices of Reiki and tarot. I highly recommend even just researching through YouTube videos and other articles on the subject. Moreover, there isn’t a need for a specific reason in mind, such as anxiety or depression, before seeking out these remedies. Both practices can generally just be a great way to better understand yourself and your surroundings.
ON HEALTH AND MONEY: Compensated Studies as an Intersection
by Victoria Rein
The sky looks to be one all-encompassing cloud; it’s darker than it should be at 3:00 p.m., even in the winter, and I’m sitting on the cold leather seats of some car driven by a person I’ll likely never see again. The Uber rides to the clinic have become almost routine at this point, though I’m not going for a check-up. I’m one of the participants in a study on the effectiveness of anti-anxiety medication.
Anxiety — the social kind, to be precise — has soured my days ever since I can remember. A debilitating fear of being judged by others rules over every action I take and word I utter (and those I don’t). These disturbances in daily living are not what drew me to apply for participation in such a study (though that seems to be the understanding of the psychologist I meet with each visit). It feels wrong to tell her I’m doing this solely for the money and that any alleviation of anxiety symptoms that accompanies it is simply an added bonus.
Make no mistake, the compensation is worth the two to three hour block of my day comprised of Uber rides, blood draws, deeply personal questionings, and EKG cable placements on my chest that almost make me regret the decision to stop wearing bras. With one visit to the clinic, I make more than I would in a six-hour shift at my restaurant hosting job, even before taxes.
This introduces moments of profound reflection for me — why does it take such extreme measures to get by in this financial climate? Should I really have to sign off on putting foreign substances in my body just to have some money to spend on groceries? Maybe describing those measures as “extreme” is a bit dramatic, but there’s certainly a fine line to tow in valuing my body enough to care about what I put in it and being realistic enough about the risks of the study to not worry too much about it. I signed a consent form that spanned 17 pages on my first visit after they confirmed I was eligible, and while the temptation to just skim over it was there, I figured I’d regret it if I didn’t read every word. Nothing seemed too extreme, so I agreed and permanently planted my name at the bottom of that last page. The appointments I have at the clinic, though manageable, are emotionally and physically draining, to say the least. When they sit me down to draw blood, I always look away thanks to the issues I have with needles and veins. I instead study the fluorescent light rods on the ceiling flanked by those white, speckled panels until I could conjure the image in a dream. After more routine tests measuring my height, weight, and heartbeats per minute, I’m sent to the psychologist’s office downstairs where I’m asked a series of questions about my mental state and anxiety levels over the past week. This is always the hardest part. While I certainly don’t enjoy being left with what resembles track marks and bruises on my arm from the blood draws, I dislike even more constant reminders of how poor my mental health has become again. Though it stings to quantify my depleting mental state on a scale of one to three, I remind myself that each answer is, say, a dollar, and the notion of compensation makes it hurt less. Maybe that’s messed up, but I can’t be the only one who rationalizes the process like that.
One article, by WCG IRB, discussed the concept of “undue influence,” or when someone agrees to take unreasonable risks due to the influence of other considerations (such as money). The Institutional Review Board (IRB) has to approve the risks of a potential study, confirming that they are reasonable in relation to the benefits, before the study is approved. This introduces another question, though: how much is enough? What if the benefits aren’t enough to outweigh potential risks?
The article mentioned that in an attempt to reduce situations where undue influence is exerted, though already rare, the research community encourages relatively low payments, which, in turn, raises concerns about exploitation. The average payment is somewhere between $50 and $300 each day of the study.
The problem: even this amount is considered a lot for people in lower-income brackets, so the possibility for exploitation skyrockets when this is considered. In 2016, six Phase 1 drug trial participants were left hospitalized in France, one even pronounced brain-dead. Though this doesn’t happen often, it’s still a sobering, impossible-to-forget picture of the worstcase scenario. A New York Times article about this incident quoted Carl Elliott, a University of Minnesota bioethicist, as saying, “‘Many Phase 1 trial volunteers are poor and unemployed, and they volunteer for trials like this because they are desperate for money. This means they are easily exploited.’”
That being said, I don’t personally think I’m being exploited in the study I’m participating in whatsoever. Reading through the list of side effects that accompany what I’m taking didn’t make my stomach turn, and the worst symptom I’ve had is a bit of a headache. Still, I wonder how low I would go to procure money. It’s an almost invaluable asset, especially right now while prices of quite literally everything are increasing almost beyond reason (shoutout inflation). I’m basically the archetype of a “broke college student,” so you do the math.
I’ll likely think about this on my next Uber ride to the clinic, but I have a funny feeling my worries will dissipate once the researchers reload that money onto the debit card they gave me.
