�������Թ�

Hey, everyone, and welcome back. Hopefully as the chaos in my life settles, I’ll be able to make a more consistent blog schedule. Pull up a chair, grab some tea or hot chocolate, or maybe even a Kool-Aid juice box, and get comfortable.

I have a story to tell, and it starts with a beautiful Tuesday morning.

The air was crisp, and I watched the city go by the car window in steady streaks. We’d made plans to head to NYC that day for some good brunch food, coffee, and much needed unnecessary shopping — a perfect way to end fall break. Purchasing our tickets, I made sure to take a stupid photo of us before we started for the track.

I’m not sure what other people do during their train rides — though I surmise music is a typical thing — but the next two hours consisted of memes, biology videos, and talking about Transformers, because apparently that side of the nerd-dom is back in style.

Stepping outside into Grand Central, my love of traveling hit me like a train (no pun intended). The ceiling of the station is unsupported, featuring high arches painted a soft teal and speckled with constellations. Every time I look at it, it seems to get bigger. Hopefully I’m not the only one.

After an hour or so of bumbling around, we got to the brunch place.

Everything smelled like French toast.

French toast, while perhaps a food that I don’t have very often, is one that I have a strong liking for. It’s sweet, bouncy, and reminds me of every Christmas I’ve had growing up. The smell of the pine tree, the sugar rush. My mom, while I’ve had disagreements with her, makes the best French toast I’ve ever had in my life and is often the only French toast I will eat, but I’m getting way off topic, aren’t I?

By the time we’d placed our order, an email had popped into my inbox. Normally, I’d ignore something like that, but it was work-related and that was an item of importance to me. Curiously, I fished my phone from my purse and opened the app. This was probably more shift stuff and — oh.

Email Subject: Employment at our Company

My heart lodged itself into my throat.

Dear Beatrice, at this time we are not able to...

And then it shattered.

Tears pricked my eyes, and I scolded myself to not cry in public. Don’t cry. Do not cry. No crying. I stood up, went outside, made a phone call, and hung up. They would call me back later. Great.

There was nothing to be done.

Absolutely nothing.

Swallowing what felt like the end of my professional career (it wasn’t), I put on the best smile I could and went back inside. Our food arrived shortly thereafter, and I was sure to take a bite of my boyfriend’s French toast. It was light, fluffy, and welcoming; melting softly in my mouth as if trying to give a hug to my heart.

“Hey. Don’t take this as a forever thing,” said the voice through my phone. We were walking about the city now, and the person had called me back. “B�𲹳ٰ�������,” they said, “you are very smart. There are no doubts about that. The first time I went to medic school, I failed. I re-evaluated my reason to want to be there — which took like a year — and when I went back, I passed. Not everything happens on the first try, okay? I think no less of you, my dear. There are plenty of opportunities out there. Enjoy the city. Enjoy your brunch and your shopping, and don’t let this taint your life. There was nothing wrong with you, it was just bad timing. And maybe that’s for a reason. Take care, okay? And enjoy yourself!”

So that’s what I did.

Stuffing my tears, disgust, fear, and disappointment into a mental box labeled “FOR LATER” in scribbly handwriting, I put on my sunglasses, grabbed my boyfriend’s hand and said,

“Haters gonna hate.” 😎

Saying that, I was officially done letting small things get to me. Did I feel like a massive failure for about a week? Yeah. Did I cry for most of the day after and was convinced I should quit EMS entirely? Also yes. But what was I going to do about it? I couldn’t cry and feel hopeless forever.

In the end, we had a fantastic day. I tried on an absolutely beautiful dress that I totally didn’t buy because it was $900.00 and wandered around SoHo. I found an absolutely adorable French pastry shop, reminded my boyfriend how stupid in love with him I am, and caught the train that went back home.

Coming home, I couldn’t pretend what had happened didn’t happen for much longer. Denial is helpful when you need it to be, but there comes a certain point when you need to be honest with yourself.

I lost my job, but it wasn’t because I did anything wrong. Whatever happens, happens, and that’s just how life rolls.

For those who are curious, here are the main takeaways of this life lesson:

1. Failure ��DZ����’t define you: it’s the aftermath.
2. Failure ��DZ����’t mean you’re terrible at something. It only means that perhaps you need more time to learn, or to re-evaluate what your goals are.
3. Failure ��DZ����’t make you stronger or weaker... I am just as strong and weak as I was before that happened.
4. Failure challenges your mindset, your goals, your perspective, and, sometimes, your courage.
5. Failure isn’t meant to stop you.
6. Failure is meant to offer you a chance to grow.
7. But boy is it painful and uncomfortable.
8. Lol.

See, readers, failure is never meant to discourage you. It’s meant to make you stop, re-evaluate your situation, and determine what the next best step is. Sometimes the next best is crying, and other times it’s beating the punching bag. What I do recommend, though, is not being me and isolating from the people we’ve grown to love. Don’t do that. Believe it or not, people want to help you. I’ve never met someone who genuinely ��DZ����’t want to help someone, but that’s not to say that those types of people don’t exist.

I wish you all are taking care, and that as we took toward the new semester, there is always a chance for success. Small success is still the same as big success in the sense that both are achievements. Believe in yourself a little bit, and you’d be amazed at what can happen as a result.

I love all of you very much and wish you the best.

Sending all my hugs, peace, love, and peanut butter (unless deathly allergic to peanut butter),

Bea

Beatrice Glaviano ’26 is a nutrition sciences major at the University of New Haven.