The Village That Saved Me: How Hobbies and Community Carried Emily Meier Through Burnout
At 24, Emily Meier describes her journey through life and academics as one shaped by resilience, curiosity, and an openness to change.
BEEDIE LUMINARIES — At five years old, many of us already have an idea of our dream job. Year by year, those aspirations shift, ebbing and flowing until we reach young adulthood and begin to make lasting decisions about the rest of our lives.
For 18-year old Emily Meier, the path to the future began with dreams of becoming a physiotherapist and a firm goodbye to all things math-related. But, as she turns 24, she now finds herself teaching undergraduate statistics and pursuing a Master of Science in Occupational and Environmental Hygiene at the University of British Columbia.
Raised in Abbotsford, B.C., and later competing as a varsity rugby athlete throughout her undergraduate journey at UBC, Emily has learned that resilience doesn’t come from holding on to a single identity. Instead, it’s built over time—shaped by the accumulation of diverse experiences, challenges, and personal growth. Emily attributes her ability to navigate difficult moments to staying curious, embracing change, and finding purpose in unexpected places. Read more about Emily below.
In ecology, a forest’s resilience is often credited to its biodiversity. The more diverse its plant life, the better it can adapt and survive during storms or droughts.
I’ve come to realize that my life operates much the same way. The diversity of my personal identities such as being a former student, athlete, researcher, friend, and community builder, has made me more resilient, allowing me to weather the storms that inevitably come with growth and change. But let me be clear: maintaining the different areas of my life of academics, career pursuits, passion projects, recreation, and relationships is no easy feat. Though they contribute to a sense of balance and meaning, juggling them requires constant reflection, recalibration, and a good dose of humility.
Before even attending university I remember completing my final high school math exam, thinking I had left numbers behind for good. I had been accepted into the Kinesiology program at UBC with dreams of becoming a physiotherapist, and as far as I was concerned, calculus had no place in that future.
Fast forward six years, and I now find myself using statistics often completing a Master of Science in Occupational and Environmental Hygiene and having just finished my first teaching assistant position for a undergraduate statistics course.
From the Field to the Lab: how leaving varsity athletics opened space for new passions—and new pressures.
Would I have imagined I chose this path at 18? Probably not. Am I proud to be doing things I never imagined I could? Absolutely. I’ve begun to learn that life is far less linear than we imagine in our teens. Back then, everything felt like a series of checkpoints: graduate high school, get into university, choose a career. I assumed clarity and calm would come in my early twenties. Instead, I’ve learned that life rarely slows down, it simply evolves.
Since finishing high school and starting my university career at UBC, I’ve been a varsity rugby athlete, secured internships almost every summer, and now find myself immersed in graduate research. Each chapter has brought its own challenges and opportunities, keeping me on my toes and constantly re-evaluating who I am and who I want to become.
One of the biggest transitions I’ve faced recently was stepping away from varsity athletics and into what many former athletes jokingly call “NARP” life—Non-Athlete Regular Person as I complete my graduate studies. I expected life to be less hectic no longer needing to balance sports and academics but quickly realized that my drive for challenge and my aversion to boredom simply led me to fill my schedule with new commitments: writing grant proposals, collaborating on research projects, and testing my own ideas.
These opportunities have been fulfilling but also overwhelming. I vividly remember venting to my mom over FaceTime this past year, complaining about overlapping deadlines and lab reports. Eventually, we both recognized a pattern that wasn’t going away. I thrive in challenging environments, which has become both a core strength and a source of stress.
Resilience used to mean nothing more than pushing through pain and discomfort in order to reach your next goal. My perspective on this was heavily influenced by my rugby background, where in a game you’re constantly being knocked down, only to pick yourself up again and head into the next tackle, time after time. However, sporting ideologies do not always translate well into real life scenarios where you need to last a lifetime and not just 80 minutes like a rugby game.
The key to my resilience has boiled down to never investing all of myself into one identity. One example includes my continued connection with my athletic identity through transitioning from elite sport to joining a recreational league within the Meraloma Rugby Club. It has become a space where I can shift from cerebral thinking to physical expression, serving as a much-needed mental reset. More importantly, it’s now also become a community.
The friendships and support I’ve found there have helped me through academic burnouts and personal hardships in ways no study session ever could. These connections also run deeper than the shared interest of rugby. I have been able to surround myself with inspirational and successful women with diverse backgrounds such in biomedical engineering, law, geological science, and social justice just to name a few who have all enriched my worldview and broadened my professional network far beyond what any classroom or campus networking event could offer.
Turning Pain into Purpose: The story behind RAP, a support group that transformed injury into impact.
Another passion project that particularly shaped me was supporting the foundation of a peer support group for injured varsity athletes, now known as RAP (Recovering Athlete Peer-Support). After enduring a series of rugby injuries, I experienced firsthand how isolating it can be to navigate recovery as a student-athlete. When I heard someone was looking to build a support group for others in the same situation, I didn’t hesitate—despite my already overflowing schedule.
It gave purpose to my pain and it has become one of the most meaningful experiences of my university career. Those that have chosen to be involved are some of the kindest and inspirational individuals I have the privilege to call my friends. Many group alumni I have worked with have now gone on to graduate research and medical school. Once again, a passion project proving to be a great source of personal and professional connection. RAP continues to thrive today, run by current student-athletes, and serves as a legacy I’m incredibly proud of. It’s shown me that saying “yes” to the right things—projects rooted in purpose—can yield life-changing impact and lifelong connections.
Of course, I’m not suggesting we all say “yes” to everything. That’s a fast track to burnout. But, I’ve found that even saying “yes” to one or two meaningful opportunities each year—especially those rooted in community—can create ripple effects that go far beyond what we initially imagine.
A year of loss, grief, and overwhelm—and the anchors that held me steady.
That belief was put to the test during the lowest point of my university life. In my third year, I tore my ACL and meniscus (which later became a career-ending injury), lost my grandmother to a terminal brain tumor during final exams, and watched as my family’s farm in Abbotsford was effected by the 2021 flooding in the Sumas Prairie. It felt like every area of my life was collapsing. But the pieces I had invested in academics, community, and peer support helped me stay grounded. I found purpose in helping others, even when I was struggling myself. That year, being involved in RAP wasn’t just fulfilling, it was healing.
I’ve come to understand that not all parts of life will be going well at the same time. That’s why diversifying your identity through friendships, hobbies, academic work, and community involvement is essential. When one part of life becomes overwhelming, the others can offer strength, perspective, and purpose.
In the near future I plan to graduate from my Masters program and begin working as a certified industrial hygienist with a background in ergonomics related to my thesis work. I hope to be a catalyst for change within my field by reducing work related illnesses and musculoskeletal disorders in workers that I have seen all too much of within heavy industry. From there I also have intentions to continue staying involved within my community after I graduate by volunteering within coaching roles and becoming a mentor for the Beedie Luminaries program. Of course I might also find some time to continue investing into my hobbies such as recreational sport, hiking, art and meeting up for a cheeky mid week beer with friends.
So, at the end of the day, it turns out that resilience isn’t about being unbreakable. It’s about building a life rich in connection, filled with passions, and flexible enough to withstand change. Just like a biodiverse forest, the more layers we cultivate, the more rooted we become and the better we weather life’s storms.
Thank you, Emily. We are so proud of you.
Looking to connect with alumni students like Emily? Connect with her here.
