Maike Lindenau, Grade 12
UWC Maastricht
IB is extremely stressful, especially if you are at a UWC: all the deadlines, tasks and CAS requirements you have to fulfil and then also things like CAS reflections, cultural weeks, global issue forums etc. that are just part of UWC and you want to take part in but often don't really have the time - and go anyway. So it is to be expected that at some point during these two years you will suffer something like a mental breakdown because of all this stress. It was all the more strange when I had exactly that not because of school stress, but because of something straightforward - at least that's what I thought:
On a September night, I was sitting on my bed, I looked at the chaos around me, which perfectly reflected my emotions. Drowning in muesli bars, pasta, hiking boots, thick socks, fleece jumpers, my sleeping bag, a massive tent and toilet paper, I sat there and didn't know what to do. The situation was too absurd, too simple to fall into despair because of it. And yet, from one moment to another, tears kept running down my cheeks. And I remember when my first-year roommate came and gave me one of her incredibly great strong hugs, which only made me cry even more. Yes, at that moment, all I really wanted to do was go home, but my roomie was probably its best replacement I could imagine. Together with me, she somehow managed to get all these things into one backpack only to find that there was always room for more - I guess I'm just terrible at packing. I'm sorry, roomie, that I kept you up so late. But thank you so much!
The next morning, I was in Mensa, with my huge backpack that felt like it was filled with stones and with extremely tense nerves - but I have been there. And so our journey started.
After one and a half hours driving in the bus we rented, we arrived in someplace in Belgium where people who only spoke fluent French explained to us our task for that day - checking old maps and correcting them. So far, so good. It was already drizzling, but the fact that we didn't have to carry our heavy backpacks around with us that day made us optimistic about walking the next 13 kilometres. And we were right. After a few hours, we arrived back at the starting point and had successfully completed our task. So far, so good.
Next challenge: setting up tents. My tent neighbour and I had just set everything up and put our things to dry when it really started to rain. The two of us then sat in our little green shelter, tired and cold, hoping for an end - which, of course, did not come. Camping in an open field without any barriers around us, the wind and the rain hit our tents in their full strength. We used minutes of the drizzle to cook our dinner and fetch water from the small farm next door. The night continued with an icy wind, constant rain and no peaceful sleep because we were all trembling. Tents got wet, little puddles formed inside. Our mentor told us that he hadn't experienced such a bad night in a tent for years. Well, that was the first of this kind ever. I think the start could definitely have been less of a mental challenge...
And then day two started: My first day with the backpack on my back. It takes some time to get used to, but it is possible. Still wet, demanding, but teamwork. The real tidal wave came in the afternoon, and our rain jackets were completely soaked within minutes. We got lost, and the map did not show what we found in reality. The path was filled with so much water that we had no choice but to walk through the middle of it - our shoes were just soaking wet after this. Endless searching, turning around, walking on, checking the compass and not stopping. These were the last hours and kilometres we needed until we finally reached the campsite where we would spend our second night. And it really did have warm showers that felt like heaven - even if they only ran for two short minutes per person. This night we had a dry room for our whole group, a shelter for cooking, and even though it rained more than the night before, it was less windy and therefore cosily warm in our tents—at least one good night.
The next day started with no rain and actually stayed that way, just like the third night. So finally, we could all sit around the campfire together, sing songs and enjoy the fellowship. We had blisters on our feet, but paracetamol and distraction helped us to get through the last day - of course, again with lots of rain and mud. We got lost repeatedly and arrived at our bus a whole hour late - but we all made it together as a team.
So, we hiked for four days, in the worst weather you can imagine, for your first hike of this kind. It was wet; I got five blisters on my feet and probably had countless smaller mental breakdowns, but every step I took forward, I grew, too. Beyond myself and together with my team, which I hardly knew before. Sometimes the rain distracted us from our pain, sometimes the pain from the rain. The nature was beautiful and after four full days outside, it was almost frighteningly warm and easy to live in a house.
My little four-day adventure was exhausting, nerve-racking and certainly not easy, but it was nonetheless my highlight, my time-out and an experience I would repeat at any time.
On a September night, I was sitting on my bed, I looked at the chaos around me, which perfectly reflected my emotions. Drowning in muesli bars, pasta, hiking boots, thick socks, fleece jumpers, my sleeping bag, a massive tent and toilet paper, I sat there and didn't know what to do. The situation was too absurd, too simple to fall into despair because of it. And yet, from one moment to another, tears kept running down my cheeks. And I remember when my first-year roommate came and gave me one of her incredibly great strong hugs, which only made me cry even more. Yes, at that moment, all I really wanted to do was go home, but my roomie was probably its best replacement I could imagine. Together with me, she somehow managed to get all these things into one backpack only to find that there was always room for more - I guess I'm just terrible at packing. I'm sorry, roomie, that I kept you up so late. But thank you so much!
The next morning, I was in Mensa, with my huge backpack that felt like it was filled with stones and with extremely tense nerves - but I have been there. And so our journey started.
After one and a half hours driving in the bus we rented, we arrived in someplace in Belgium where people who only spoke fluent French explained to us our task for that day - checking old maps and correcting them. So far, so good. It was already drizzling, but the fact that we didn't have to carry our heavy backpacks around with us that day made us optimistic about walking the next 13 kilometres. And we were right. After a few hours, we arrived back at the starting point and had successfully completed our task. So far, so good.
Next challenge: setting up tents. My tent neighbour and I had just set everything up and put our things to dry when it really started to rain. The two of us then sat in our little green shelter, tired and cold, hoping for an end - which, of course, did not come. Camping in an open field without any barriers around us, the wind and the rain hit our tents in their full strength. We used minutes of the drizzle to cook our dinner and fetch water from the small farm next door. The night continued with an icy wind, constant rain and no peaceful sleep because we were all trembling. Tents got wet, little puddles formed inside. Our mentor told us that he hadn't experienced such a bad night in a tent for years. Well, that was the first of this kind ever. I think the start could definitely have been less of a mental challenge...
And then day two started: My first day with the backpack on my back. It takes some time to get used to, but it is possible. Still wet, demanding, but teamwork. The real tidal wave came in the afternoon, and our rain jackets were completely soaked within minutes. We got lost, and the map did not show what we found in reality. The path was filled with so much water that we had no choice but to walk through the middle of it - our shoes were just soaking wet after this. Endless searching, turning around, walking on, checking the compass and not stopping. These were the last hours and kilometres we needed until we finally reached the campsite where we would spend our second night. And it really did have warm showers that felt like heaven - even if they only ran for two short minutes per person. This night we had a dry room for our whole group, a shelter for cooking, and even though it rained more than the night before, it was less windy and therefore cosily warm in our tents—at least one good night.
The next day started with no rain and actually stayed that way, just like the third night. So finally, we could all sit around the campfire together, sing songs and enjoy the fellowship. We had blisters on our feet, but paracetamol and distraction helped us to get through the last day - of course, again with lots of rain and mud. We got lost repeatedly and arrived at our bus a whole hour late - but we all made it together as a team.
So, we hiked for four days, in the worst weather you can imagine, for your first hike of this kind. It was wet; I got five blisters on my feet and probably had countless smaller mental breakdowns, but every step I took forward, I grew, too. Beyond myself and together with my team, which I hardly knew before. Sometimes the rain distracted us from our pain, sometimes the pain from the rain. The nature was beautiful and after four full days outside, it was almost frighteningly warm and easy to live in a house.
My little four-day adventure was exhausting, nerve-racking and certainly not easy, but it was nonetheless my highlight, my time-out and an experience I would repeat at any time.
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