My Story: Mariah

Learn 2 Listen was founded by Mariah Parsons, a student-athlete and mental health advocate.

Mariah has been inspired by the stories of others, learn more about her’s here:

My own journey to open up has been a formidable challenge for me. While reflecting on the pivotal moments in my life, I have discerned four moments in my life that have challenged me in ways I’d never experienced before. But, I have learned to be grateful for these experiences, albeit painful. My responses to these challenges have shaped me into a better, stronger, more confident version of myself. In hopes of gaining your trust (and for my own cathartic release), I want to share some struggles I’ve previously elected to hide. I hope I can inspire others to do the same.

My first life-pausing moment came when I almost lost someone extremely close to me. Previously, I never had to acknowledge the possibility of losing someone at a drop of a hat. It was extremely difficult to admit I was useless and I couldn’t be helpful. Her health was out of my hands, there was no other choice but to wait in a situation that was urgent and time-sensitive. Not only is she one of my mentors, but a mentor to many. It speaks to the magnitude of her presence in the lives she blesses with her presence. I admire her ability to selflessly help anyone, sometimes without even knowing them. When she got sick, I was enraged at the world. I questioned how a walking saint could be dealt such an unforgiving fate. I felt immense guilt because of the ‘what ifs’.  My inability to help ate away at me and I got away from myself. I lost my optimism in the world, which is an integral part of how I define myself. I questioned my Catholic upbringing, asking how God could let good people suffer. It was unfair. I was so deeply wounded by the world’s cruelty and I wanted answers. On the outside, I acted the same, but I was fueled by a feeling of injustice on her behalf. Because I never got the explanation I wanted or one that was sufficient for me, I eventually had to shift my mindset. This was the first time I had to recognize life’s uncertainty and accept that sometimes you just never get the answer. My hope and optimism have been strengthened and in wavering moments these core values help ground me. For a long time, I was ashamed for not believing I was strong enough to hold on to my hope. I’ve learned it is in these moments when the world is spinning around us, that we need the anchor of hope the most. 

The second pivotal moment for me was the first time someone I knew took their own life. Even not having been a family member or a best friend, receiving the news didn't feel real, it wasn’t registering. The gravity of this new reality knocked the wind out of me. I was so deeply hurt that we, as a society, had failed. That's how I saw it, as though someone slipped through the cracks. I was mad at myself and the world that we haven’t immediately addressed the global phenomenon of suicide. One life lost should be enough to catalyze a movement of prevention. I felt guilty as if I should have known, and I now recognize I put that responsibility on myself. I had never felt such deep, overwhelming, radiating sorrow. I admire those who shoulder loss with resiliency and it is a testament to human strength. I reflected on death and its duality while working through all of my emotions. Death as a concept is fundamentally bizarre, it opposes life while also amplifying the importance of living in the moment. I aspire to live presently while expecting a roller coaster of emotions.. I believe this was the first time I caught on to the importance of mental health. I have rarely told those closest to me about how torn up I get about others taking their own life. This is what has also inspired me to found Learn 2 Listen. We don’t get to decide what impacts us but we do decide to talk through it and process our emotions. I want everyone to feel they have a community here. 

The third monumental event that I struggled through was when my best friend left our team and transferred to universities. It was a sad moment for me to realize it was the best thing for her and not for me. When she first told me she was considering transferring, I remember the flush of adrenaline nearly making me faint. I had taken for granted we had another two years of college together. Of course, no hurt was intended, in fact, she tried for so long to shield me, to protect me. It wasn't her place to shine anymore, and it was the best choice she could have ever made for herself. I needed to support her, but the selfish part of me also didn't want her to leave. I was happy for her and sad for myself. That internal guilt trip was a crazy one to ride. To give some context, she knows me better than I know myself and I absolutely love the person I become when we are together. We wouldn't just go through the motions of everyday life but we made them chaotic and unique and exhilarating. It was contagious, intoxicating even. I was the most confident version of myself that I had ever been, and I knew I owed it all to have an amazing best friend who brought it out of me. So, when half of that puzzle was about to be removed, I was terrified the version of myself my school friends had come to know would leave with her. They had known us as being attached at the hip for the past year and a half, being bizarre but a force to be reckoned with all the same. In the semester after she left, I doubted myself without her. Luckily, the people who make up my circles are extremely supportive and caring. But, every now and then, the worst parts of me would creep out and I would perceive empathy for pity. I was fully aware I let my fears control my thoughts, but sometimes I just couldn't help it. Through it all, I had to teach myself to ask for help and to accept help. I realized through all of this that she taught me how to be carefree and to live life for myself. I think everyone at some point in their life cares about what other people think about them and then unlearns this. I’ve let the opinions of others cage me and through our friendship, I was freed. The lucky ones figure out early in life we can’t validate ourselves through others. I’m not fully there yet, but I’m closer each day. I don’t think I'll ever be fully able to express my gratitude for having learned this, even though I am far from mastering it. 

My final and most recent impactful experience has been recognizing my lack of self-compassion. When I was injured, I immediately blamed myself for not being able to perform. I hit a roadblock in my athletic career, which became a major issue because, like many athletes, a major part of my identity and self-worth is a product of competition. When that paused, I felt less worthy. I went from excelling at practice to being in the injured squad, reduced to physical therapy, and completely prohibited from physical activity, for my own good of course. From the outside, I appeared calm, but my interior demeanor was burning up. I questioned how a break in my rib could cause so much pain, and there were moments I even started to believe my mind was making up the pain. I write more about my injury in The Perplexity of  Injury, but here I want to focus on why it was such a formative experience and how it inspired me to make Learn 2 Listen. My thought process was to put up a front, to smile and be optimistic, to not burden others with my frustration. This was not the way to go about out, as I learned the hard way. I eventually shared my struggles and the support I received was tremendous. I was petrified to open up and admit I wanted and needed help, but when I got that initial support I felt such a sense of relief. Not only did I tell my story, but it was heard. People listened. People related. So with my overthinking tendencies and passion for psychology, it got me thinking... Why did I ever hesitate to share in the first place? Why did it take me years to admit I wasn’t perfect? To others, and to myself? I came to the conclusion that part of it was not being comfortable with vulnerability, and part was having to get over my weird sense of pride that I wasn’t perfect. What I really realized is that I thought my story didn’t deserve to be told. I’ve been blessed with many great opportunities, so who was I to complain? I thought my successes invalidated my struggles. I thought there are so many greater stories and greater hurdles that other people have experienced. Why was my story important to hear? I determined it wasn’t. But, I realized comparing the magnitude of struggles was a scary and slippery slope. Every struggle and every emotion is valid and I think we can all benefit from hearing that.

Through these and many more personal experiences, I have realized the tremendous amount of pressure I put on myself to wrap things up in a pretty bow. I allow and encourage those I love to lean on me and I support them through validation, but I won't allow myself the same forgiveness. My growth catalyzed by pain has given me purpose. I think a lot of people struggle with this, we are compassionate to others but not ourselves. We need not only to listen to others, but also listen to ourselves, and that is part of the mission for Learn 2 Listen. We are empowering each other and strengthening ourselves.