All my life there’s been a buzzing. Sometimes it’s a whisper at night. Other times it’s a roar in the morning that makes my chest feel heavy, as if someone had their foot on me.
The buzzing isn’t bad, necessarily. It’s pushed me to achieve. I don’t think I’d have ever come to The Alligator without it. But that push to achieve comes from the fear of not ever doing enough, of doing something wrong, of never being correct and never being allowed to appreciate the work I’ve already done. Feel bad about yourself, it says. Why did you do that, it says.
If you did something right, it was luck. If you did something wrong, it was all your fault.
For years I had wished I could quiet it. And then one day this Fall, sitting in my comfortable chair in the back office of The Alligator, I realized I had. I felt quiet. I felt at home.
I owe The Alligator everything when it comes to being a journalist. But I also owe it so much for making me someone who believes in myself, even on the hard days.
When I came to UF I was a sweaty, insecure freshman bursting with nervous energy. That energy bubbled over and left me sobbing on the phone to the Counseling and Wellness Center the week before classes even began. I never felt at home on campus, and I never felt at home in my body. There was always a buzz.
Now, nearly four full years later, I do still hear it. I have bad days. I have bad weeks. But I feel more confident in myself and comfortable with who I am. When you’ve been a nomad in your own skin for so long, stillness is godly.
For the past four years, I’ve kept paper journals documenting how I feel and everything I do. They help me channel that buzzing, but more than anything I appreciate how they let me look back at my own growth.
Here’s an excerpt from January 4, 2017, when I had just begun at The Alligator as a staff writer.
“I went to the staff meeting yesterday for The Alligator and felt really uncomfortable. At one point when I was just sitting I felt so sad, like I might cry. Because in that moment, I wasn’t sure if this profession was right for me. Maybe I’ve been deluding myself. But I’m still giving it a shot. I’m nervous, though.”
So you know, I did cry that day. I snuck out to the bathroom and wept.
One thing I mentioned early on in those entries was that at least the people were nice. And I owe so much of my professional growth, but also my personal growth, to the brilliant editors and writers I’ve worked alongside. Thanks for believing in me. You all inspire me from near (my fellow editors who I spend too much time sitting across from) and afar.
In a year and a half, I went from feeling so deeply uncomfortable in The Alligator’s office I had to cry in the even more uncomfortable bathroom to finally finding my quiet.
It’s because I learned to trust myself. Besides learning how to stay up past 10 p.m., it’s the most important lesson The Alligator unintentionally taught me.
Change is incremental. You won’t notice it at first. But when you do, it may not be something momentous. It may just be stillness. And that’s enough.
Romy Ellenbogen is a UF journalism senior and digital managing editor.
