I’m friends with Legally Blonde. No, not Reese Witherspoon’s character Elle Woods, but a living breathing Law School student with fabulously blonde hair, quick whit and a borderline caffeine addiction. Emily and I have been friends for longer than we haven’t in our short 24 years on this planet. We’ve grown up and moved away from each other but she remains to be one of my dearest friends and someone whose wisdom never ceases to amaze and inspire me.

While I have no experience with law school, I can only imagine the long nights, stressful midterms and incessant need for coffee. Luckily, Emily, with all of her grace and humility, has written some thoughts and advice for anyone going through their own challenging period of life. Thanks for being you Emily!

One of my best friends is studying to get her Ph.D in Linguistics at Georgetown. She attends “phonetics club” (whatever that is) on Wednesday mornings and sits next to a guy who writes his notes in Chinese characters. He’s not Chinese. Apparently that’s what really smart people do.

I am not a really smart person, but somehow–by some miracle and lots (lots) of diet coke and street tacos–I find myself done with the first 1 ½ years of law school. I still have a year and a half left, but feel so lucky to have completed what I believe to be the hardest few semesters.

My first year of law school just about killed me, or so it felt. I grew up in Colorado, and in the summer, I would go on river rafting trips with family and friends. We have gone down some pretty intense rapids, and I can remember a few scary times watching my sister or other members of our group fall out of the boat and into the white water. I too have fallen out of the boat. If you have ever fallen out into a river before, or have been caught under the ocean’s waves, you know that those moments you are underwater feel like they last forever. Disoriented and terrified, those seconds stretch and stretch, threatening permanence.

That’s how the first year of law school was for me. That year felt outside the natural realm of time, and convinced me it would last forever. I felt so painfully and forcefully ejected from my normal life, and lived in a place of consuming fear and doubt. It was only after my first year was over, when I got away from school and back to a place and people I love, did I start to feel like myself again, did I feel like I could breath again.

Maybe you, or a best friend, or a sister, is about to start a graduate degree program. Or maybe you are in your “freshman year” of a new job, working 60 hours a week in a new city. To you: beautiful, smart, brave women, here are four small pieces of advice. Some small, humble tokens of encouragement, that I hope remind you that this season will not last forever. That this too shall pass. That even when we think we are drowning, we can learn to hope even more ferociously and beautifully in love.

1. Love People.

Never forget to love people. See them, listen to them. If you have a favorite take-out restaurant and the same woman always gives you your food, or a barista who keeps you functioning, ask them their name. Ask them if they have any plans over the long weekend. My restaurant is Thai Taste on El Cajon Blvd. Not only will I request their yellow curry as my dying meal, but the woman who takes my order, named Sai feels like my Taiwanese grandmother. She calls me “honey” and tries to get me to order new things off the menu. My small interactions with Sai are sometimes my favorite part of my day. She reminds me that the world is full of interesting people, people different in age and culture and life stories from myself. People that I want to see and love.

2. Exercise.

I’m still working on this one. Bring your book on the stairmaster if you have to. Exercising not just checking something off a list. It keeps you in touch with the fact that you have a heart that beats and lungs which breathe fresh air that clears our clouded minds. You will not regret it.

3. See a Counselor.

Last year, when my anxiety became more than I could handle on my own, I started seeing a therapist. It is such a gift to sit with someone, to look at them face to face, and share some of your burden. If you are in a new city and don’t yet have friends who you are close enough with to have a real and vulnerable conversation, I think it is so important to see a counselor, even if it is just for a couple sessions.

4. Stay Humble.

My most important, most personal piece of advice is this: stay so humble. Stay so humble, it is the best gift you can give yourself. I am exploring the depth and feel and scope of humility. Remembering that I am small. Remembering that I am loved, by God, by family and friends. Remembering that to them, I am not defined by my grades, or next internship, or research, or the number of business casual shoes I own. If you are a believer like me, humility is surrendering your will and your hopes and your plans and your prayers, and asking for God’s instead. Remembering that he is so good and is in control.

I don’t know if grad school is your “fall in the river” moment. Maybe it’s a breakup or a move or a loss of a friend. Whatever and whenever that moment is, remember that its threats of permanence are only threats. That at the end of this month, or year, or five years, you will find yourself pulled back into the boat, soaking wet and freezing cold, but surrounded by people who love you. Maybe laughing with relief and a new found strength and trust in those arms that pulled you out. Laughing again, and ready to journey on.

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