It is the end of a semester, and everything is due. I have a presentation in three hours worth 10% of my grade for a class, and a follow up report that is 15%. Checking my phone, I missed nearly eighty text messages from the cohort, among various other notifications and voice mails--all within the six hours I was working. My sinuses are on strike, and my body is actively waging war with a fickle environment that thinks it's natural to go from 60 to 30 in the matter of a day. I want to cry, but it has been long enough that I am not quite sure how, or if I still know the comfort of tears.
White knuckled on my wheel yesterday, I was trying to remind myself that my worries were a snapshot in time; in a few hours, everything would feel more tangible, and perhaps I wouldn't feel as though I were floating. Clearly that worked well, considering I snapped at no less than three people once arriving from my work at the hospital to my office hours (sorry guys--I still love you, and thanks for being understanding, empathic humans!).
Funny enough, I am and have been doing extremely well. I initially called this wave a typical Monday, but my body defined the moment by pretending it was the end of the world. In this wave, I remind myself all the things going right in my life as an attempt to console, and become afraid to breathe or move the wrong way, in hopes that holding my breath keeps anything from going awry. The only problem is, having lived enough life, and of course, read enough Brene Brown, I know this behavior is nothing short of irrational and foolish. Still, I continue circling through my to-do list, wondering if I will get everything for classes done, if I will need to pull an all-nighter, if I can accomplish the challenges at my feet, and of course, the master of all shame questions as of late--am I even "good enough," to be in a graduate program.
Let me tell you--shame is a shitty feeling.
Given that I had a panic attack surrounding everything that needed, and in large part, still needs to be done--I am coping by continuing to not do anything, save, writing a blog that is irrelevant to my academics. Funny how we cope by avoidance, right?
There is one thing I have learned through this semester, and of course, snapshots of my semester that sing to the tune of yesterday's event--sometimes it is okay, and even necessary to step back and pause.
Graduate school is filled with the feeling of imposter syndrome, and at times, feeling as if I should walk on eggshells to avoid looking incompetent. If you talk as though you know what you're doing, maybe you will make up for your shortcomings. No one will know your iniquities, if you don't let them see beyond the veil of your IQ. This all sounds great in theory, but in action, it fails miserably. The reality is that when I execute these ideas, I am acting as Oz, and eventually, my curtain falls, and everyone finds the truth about their colleague, their TA, their worker, their roommate, their student, and their friend.
As I was sitting in the quiet before my lecture yesterday, I began wondering what it would look like to stop worrying, and actually apply some of my own advice. So often I echo "you do your best, and trust that it will be enough," but it is sort of hollow if I cannot eat the meat of my own words. So I stopped studying, stopped writing, and walked away. Oddly, my lack of studying earned me one of my better exams, and even better, a decent presentation. Sweet irony.
I am learning through the expectations of graduate school that self-imposed standards can be good, but very quickly cross a toxic line, defining our identity as what we can do, instead of who we are. I am learning that sometimes in the thick of stress and worry, it is not weak to walk away.
Think about a splinter--when trying to remove it, our good intentions oftentimes send the object deeper, allowing the splinter to fester. Since my anxiety and panic will probably never magically dissipate, I am trying to think about it in the same way. Does it hurt and act as a nuisance when occurring? Considering I usually think I might die, I'd say yes. However, ruminating on thoughts sends the emotions into a downward spiral wherein thinking goes out the window.
When we sit with our splinters, or our anxieties, they eventually work their way out. Last evening on my walk before class, there was a moment I could feel the weight lift from my chest and shoulders, as if my splinter fell away. The brisk air from a temperate evening hit me in a way that made me want to linger in its presence, rather than hurry to a two and a half hour lecture. It was in these moments that my anxieties became minimal, and in reality, nuisances that could be broken down into bite sized goals--naturally, leaving me to feel a little silly for my lashed out initial reactions.
So for anyone who has asked recently about grad school and life? Yup--it is stressful. But there is immense power in choosing to stop picking at the splinters, choosing the times when it is appropriate to remind yourself of your worth, and reminding yourself that it is at times okay to walk away.
White knuckled on my wheel yesterday, I was trying to remind myself that my worries were a snapshot in time; in a few hours, everything would feel more tangible, and perhaps I wouldn't feel as though I were floating. Clearly that worked well, considering I snapped at no less than three people once arriving from my work at the hospital to my office hours (sorry guys--I still love you, and thanks for being understanding, empathic humans!).
Funny enough, I am and have been doing extremely well. I initially called this wave a typical Monday, but my body defined the moment by pretending it was the end of the world. In this wave, I remind myself all the things going right in my life as an attempt to console, and become afraid to breathe or move the wrong way, in hopes that holding my breath keeps anything from going awry. The only problem is, having lived enough life, and of course, read enough Brene Brown, I know this behavior is nothing short of irrational and foolish. Still, I continue circling through my to-do list, wondering if I will get everything for classes done, if I will need to pull an all-nighter, if I can accomplish the challenges at my feet, and of course, the master of all shame questions as of late--am I even "good enough," to be in a graduate program.
Let me tell you--shame is a shitty feeling.
Given that I had a panic attack surrounding everything that needed, and in large part, still needs to be done--I am coping by continuing to not do anything, save, writing a blog that is irrelevant to my academics. Funny how we cope by avoidance, right?
There is one thing I have learned through this semester, and of course, snapshots of my semester that sing to the tune of yesterday's event--sometimes it is okay, and even necessary to step back and pause.
Graduate school is filled with the feeling of imposter syndrome, and at times, feeling as if I should walk on eggshells to avoid looking incompetent. If you talk as though you know what you're doing, maybe you will make up for your shortcomings. No one will know your iniquities, if you don't let them see beyond the veil of your IQ. This all sounds great in theory, but in action, it fails miserably. The reality is that when I execute these ideas, I am acting as Oz, and eventually, my curtain falls, and everyone finds the truth about their colleague, their TA, their worker, their roommate, their student, and their friend.
As I was sitting in the quiet before my lecture yesterday, I began wondering what it would look like to stop worrying, and actually apply some of my own advice. So often I echo "you do your best, and trust that it will be enough," but it is sort of hollow if I cannot eat the meat of my own words. So I stopped studying, stopped writing, and walked away. Oddly, my lack of studying earned me one of my better exams, and even better, a decent presentation. Sweet irony.
I am learning through the expectations of graduate school that self-imposed standards can be good, but very quickly cross a toxic line, defining our identity as what we can do, instead of who we are. I am learning that sometimes in the thick of stress and worry, it is not weak to walk away.
Think about a splinter--when trying to remove it, our good intentions oftentimes send the object deeper, allowing the splinter to fester. Since my anxiety and panic will probably never magically dissipate, I am trying to think about it in the same way. Does it hurt and act as a nuisance when occurring? Considering I usually think I might die, I'd say yes. However, ruminating on thoughts sends the emotions into a downward spiral wherein thinking goes out the window.
When we sit with our splinters, or our anxieties, they eventually work their way out. Last evening on my walk before class, there was a moment I could feel the weight lift from my chest and shoulders, as if my splinter fell away. The brisk air from a temperate evening hit me in a way that made me want to linger in its presence, rather than hurry to a two and a half hour lecture. It was in these moments that my anxieties became minimal, and in reality, nuisances that could be broken down into bite sized goals--naturally, leaving me to feel a little silly for my lashed out initial reactions.
So for anyone who has asked recently about grad school and life? Yup--it is stressful. But there is immense power in choosing to stop picking at the splinters, choosing the times when it is appropriate to remind yourself of your worth, and reminding yourself that it is at times okay to walk away.
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