Design by 
Cara Jhang

I am single-handedly running Earth into the 

ground.

I know this because I had to calculate my eco-

logical footprint for my environmental studies class 
last Thursday. For reference, an ecological footprint 
is a measure of an individual’s personal impact on 
the environment — a comparison between the 
demand one puts on Earth’s natural resources 
versus what the Earth is actually able to supply. To 
determine mine, I answered questions about my 
food intake (how many animal-based or processed 
products I consume), what type of house I live in, 
my modes of transportation, how often I buy new 
clothes or gadgets and so on. 

Upon finishing the survey, the result page came 

up and presented me with the statement, “If every-
one lived like you, we would need 5.3 Earths.”

Ah jeez. I scrolled to the next statement. “If 

everyone lived like you, by March 9th, we would 
have used as much from nature as Earth can renew 
in an entire year.” 

“Oh gosh,” I verbally announced. I could seri-

ously be the sole reason we’re in a sixth mass 
extinction right now. 

I then turned to the response questions for 

the assignment, where I was asked how I could 
improve my footprint, more specifically, how 
I could “be the change.” I sat back and thought 
through my past week, trying to identify times 
when I had tanked nature’s future. 

From reflecting, I realized that while my ecologi-

cal footprint was through the roof, my actual foot-
print was 
possibly higher — 
my activity app 
measured 
18,000 
steps 
the 

other day. During my first week of 
classes, I was so overwhelmed that I 
called my mom crying from the floor 
of 
my 
bedroom. 

The 
conversa-

tion provided no 
huge insights into 
bettering my ecologi-

cal footprint, only proof that the 
Earth and I were actually in tough 
competition for exhaustion lev-
els — I’ve been energetically and 

socially stunted from the 

pandemic.

“It’s hard,” I panicked. “I don’t 

know how to do regular school. 
I have to walk to my classes. I 
have to figure out where to walk 
in-between them when I don’t have 
time to deep-dive into a huge assign-
ment but also have too much time to 
just eat a snack. Then I walk back and 
forth from the house all day for my meals. And 
of course, I have to interact with everyone while I 
do it.”

“You’re just not adjusted to regular life,” my 

mom told me. “You’ll get there.”

Continuing to reflect on my week, I thought 

about my first game day as a Michigan Wolverine: 
entering the Big House, chills rising on my arms 
as I looked down at the sea of students, beaming 
and cheering, all overjoyed about making their 
debut from two years of hibernation. I was again 
exhausted that night from such a surreal yet over-
stimulating day. 

I guess I could’ve skipped the half-time hot dog? 

Avoided food from animals? I laughed to myself as 
I pictured my Graduate Student Instructor reading 
my response that I’d “be the change” by boycotting 
stadium meat. 

The reality was, I had no idea how to fix my eco-

logical footprint. I had no idea how to even navigate 
normal life on campus, and here I was, trying to 
cough up ideas on how I could “be the change.” 
While I was unable to find a legitimate way to 
improve the Earth’s life, I had identified a pattern 
of overstimulation and tiredness within my own.

This week, a hundred percent of my effort has 

gone towards trying to figure out what floor of 
what library is a good spot to do my work, how 
much of the professor’s words I should get down 
as he spews into the unpausable abyss, and if I have 
time to stop at home for dinner or go straight to 
dance practice before then going out for the night. 
I may be a 

sophomore in name, 

but I feel like a freshman in mind 

and body. And I’m not the only one. 

My friends and I joke that we’re like astronauts 

who returned from space with bones and muscles 
ill-equipped to handle the pressure of gravity. It’s 

an odd concept — having to “catch up” to a 

“normal” life, struggling through what 

is supposed to be “an average day.” 

I, along with my entire age group 

and perhaps even the entire 

student body, am realizing 

that 
I didn’t know what I was 
missing while I was missing 
it. I regressed as a function-

ing, social human without even knowing.

Being a stranger to the school at which 

I spent a year of my life is weird. I knew 
the University of Michigan was a “big 
school,” but I didn’t actually com-
prehend its vastitude until I 
went to Festifall last week. 

My 
intentions 

included add-

ing a club 

to 
my 

repertoire 
— 

perhaps 
something 

would help me contribute 
to the community, to “be 
the change.” I walked 
around in awe, taking in 
the number of people, 
the diversity of stu-
dents, their styles, con-
versations, 
initiatives, 

interests. I walked and 
walked, read material at 
booths, analyzed the buzz-
ing Diag. Overwhelmed, I 
added no clubs. Suddenly, the 
ones I already belonged to suf-
ficed. I sympathized with the Earth 
as I left, unable to provide all the per-
sonal resources that felt demanded of me. I 
needed to listen to my own body and mind’s 
needs. 

I’m acutely aware that now is not the best 

time for self-focus, though. Within the past 
month or so, there’s been a deadly hurricane, 
an abortion ban, continued Taliban chaos, 
wildfires and more. Usually, I like to stay 
updated, know current events and contrib-
ute charitably wherever I can, whether that 
entails reading the New York Times at night or 
FaceTiming 
my family to discuss confusing 

details. I like to be able 

to understand issues and their 

players and participate in conversations 

with friends or in classes. I like being informed. 

But right now, I don’t feel like I have the capacity 

to do so. I don’t know nearly enough about any of 
these events as I should. In full transparency, I can 
say I know 

that they happened and that’s about it. My aware-

ness is not looking good — I feel civically irresponsi-
ble. Not to mention, I’m apparently taking down the 
environment, too.

Keeping up with the news, staying politically 

and globally educated, contributing to causes you 
care about and of course, staying relatively envi-
ronmentally friendly requires a concerted effort, 
regardless of the time period or what’s going on 
in the world. But as college students today, we 
are expected to keep up with the world beyond 
ourselves, while also re-learning real life here in 
Ann Arbor. I question if it is acceptable to hold off a 
semester on joining a new organization or if it is irre-

sponsible to know less about current events. 

Is it lazy to not have the capacity to figure 

out how to improve an ecological foot-

print? Generally speaking, I do not 

believe anybody has the privi-

lege to dismiss life and issues 

outside their personal 

bubble. It’s negli-

gent and self-

centered. 

But 
I 

also have a small voice — one which I’m afraid to 
let speak up — saying that right now, focusing on 
myself is OK. It’s OK if I skim the news when I can, 
engage in conversation when possible and provide 
a heartfelt contribution to bettering our environ-
ment at a later date. I’ve got to obtain the footing 
itself before I can shape my footprint. This means, 
at least for a little while, maybe I don’t have to hold 
myself to the same standards I did before the pan-
demic. Maybe I don’t need to “be the change” — at 
least for right now. 

This slightly disheartening, yet nonetheless 

unavoidable truth probably goes for all aspects of 
life: the bar that was achievable in 2019, is, at least 
for now, lower. We should be easy on ourselves. We 
should lower our expectations of what we can and 
need to do. 

Right now, I’ll “be the change” by making 

sure I healthily balance my academics, social life, 
extracurriculars and downtime. I’ll take things 
off my plate that nudge me closer to feeling too 
overwhelmed. I’ll reach out to my peers and dis-
cuss the difficulty of this adjustment that they 
may be too nervous to outwardly express, think-
ing they’re the only ones struggling. I’ll write 
this piece admitting that I’m not as politically or 
current event-ly fluent and active as I used to be, 
like to be or know I should be. I’ll get there soon 
enough. Soon I’ll genuinely work on “being the 
change.” 

First, I must figure out how to just “be.”

From footprints to festifalls: relearning 
a non-virtual reality

3 — Wednesday, September 22, 2021 // The Statement

BY LILLY DICKMAN, STATEMENT 
CORRESPONDENT

