By: Fallon Weiss, Kennedy College of Sciences Well-Being Leader

There’s a strange kind of quiet that comes with writing a final post like this.

Not the heavy kind, not an ending exactly, but something much more softer than that. Like the moments after a show closes, when the stage is empty but still holds the shape of everything that happened there. That’s a little like how this experience feels to me now.

Being part of the Off-Broadway Players here has been one of the most meaningful parts of my time in college. Not just because of the performances, but because of everything in between: the rehearsals that didn’t go as planned, the moments of doubt, the times when I wasn’t sure if I was doing enough or being enough.

The truth is, I’ve learned that growth rarely feels like growth when you’re in the middle of it.

Learning to be comfortable with struggling is difficult. It goes against instinct. We want to feel capable, steady, sure of ourselves. Struggle feels like a sign that something is wrong. But over time, I’ve started to see it differently. Struggling doesn’t mean you’re failing: it means you’re in the process of learning. It means you’re stretching into something new, even if it feels uncomfortable or uncertain.

And a lot of that growth doesn’t happen alone.

Asking for help has been one of the hardest things for me to learn. It can feel vulnerable in a way that’s hard to explain, like admitting you don’t quite have it all together when it seems like everyone else does. But every time I’ve pushed past that hesitation and reached out, I’ve been reminded of something important: people want to support you. You’re not as alone as your mind might make you feel.

There’s a kind of quiet confidence that comes from that realization. Not the kind that says you can do everything by yourself, but the kind that reminds you that you don’t have to.

At the same time, I’ve learned how important it is to make space for yourself. Not just to rest, but to actually live. Making time for yourself means making time for the things that bring you back to who you are. Your creativity. Your joy. Your sense of play. The things that don’t have to be productive to be meaningful. It’s easy to let those things fall away when life gets busy, but they’re often the very things that help you stay grounded.

And maybe the biggest thing I’m taking with me is this: 

You are always more than you think you are.

More capable than you give yourself credit for. More resilient than you realize in difficult moments. More deserving of patience, care, and kindness: especially from yourself.

It’s easy to overlook your own growth because you experience it gradually, day by day. But that doesn’t make it any less real.

As I finish my time as a KCS Well-Being Leader, I don’t feel like I have everything figured out. But I do feel more comfortable not having all the answers. I trust myself more. I understand the value of leaning on others. And I know how important it is to make space for the parts of life that bring me joy.

If there’s anything I hope you take with you, it’s this:

Give yourself permission to struggle.

Give yourself permission to ask for help.

Give yourself permission to take up space in your own life.

And don’t forget, as I’ve always said: 

You are already more than enough, even while you’re still growing. 

This might be the end of this chapter, but it’s not the end of the story.