Breaking through the fog with art Preciosa Rios, Alumna, Materials Science Engineering
I was in 5th grade when I showed an aptitude for science and math. I was often told I’d be the one to take care of my family when they get older. I’d be a doctor, engineer, scientist… something easily known, respectable, and pays well. Yet, I was good at art and anything creative. But even at a young age, I understood from others that pursuing art did not hold the same respect. Like many, I grew up in a low income, single-parent household. I didn’t want to see my mom continue working multiple jobs for the rest of my life. I wanted to protect her and take care of her. I wanted to make her and my family proud. So, I quickly embraced those mainstream career options. However, I started to get extreme anxiety when I would receive anything less than an A in my math and science courses. I focused on being perfect. I began to slowly stop taking courses in art and would instead only use art in clubs and projects.
Artwork by Rios
I began to feel a strange sensation, like I was sleepwalking in life. Living, but not necessarily feeling “alive.” My mind was constantly jumping forward and backward into the future and past, into black and white thinking. I became consumed by worries at an early age. I began to grow mentally and physically exhausted, especially in high school. I felt detached from everyone and everything. It was almost like there was a constant fog in my head. Emotions became dull. But I tried to hide this. I convinced myself to “look happy, because no one likes someone who seems like a wreck.” Yet, I always felt like a dam, ready to burst under the pressure around me. Then, college came, and I truly turned my back on myself. I cared too much what others thought of me, what they thought success meant, and how I could try to make everyone happy. I embarked on a futile journey. I ran away from the things I had enjoyed for myself and tried so many of the majors everyone wanted me to be. I burnt out quickly when doors that were never mine to begin with wouldn’t open. I kept blaming myself, thinking “What is wrong with me?” I kept thinking of my family. How could I take care of them if I failed? To say my depression and anxiety worsened is an understatement. I just wanted to stop existing. I wanted to stop failing at what felt like everything. I wound up graduating, feeling like I only managed to survive, and I still felt incredibly lost. To this day, I don’t blame others. I don’t blame my family. I made the decision to listen to 18
