TW: imposter syndrome, dropping out of school, math, anxiety/depression, negative self talk, burnout

My brain will not let go of a comment that an old professor made about how he is glad my parents are supportive of my choice to take a gap year, because “there are some people that wouldn’t be.” I think that I see judgement in his face.

I told him that I have soo much time, and he laughed at me, and it was bitter laughing.

My brain-voice tells me that he’s mad because one of his best Calc I students dropped out of school, and then immediately proceeds to turn around and question the word “best.”

And then a very small voice in the background asks me, “dropped out? Is that actually what happened?”

I have had to tell so many people yesterday and today that I am not in school. That I am taking some time to figure things out and that I’d rather do that now than later. That I am not sure what is coming next, and that somehow that’s okay.

I am imagining that everyone is disappointed in me. That they think I have strayed from some path I’m supposed to be on, because I am the kind of person who gets A’s in community college math classes.

This train of thought is objectively interesting, because when I was getting those A’s in mathematics, the voices in my head never stopped telling me that I did not belong on this path, because I am neither clever nor gifted enough to do this kind of work – I am too slow, I will never see the answers by myself, I will always have to push through my own ego and embarrassment and ask for help in order to see the simple elegance of those patterns.

And that same breath I am capable of letting my stupid, gets-A’s-in-mathematics, over-patterning anxious brain take over, and I can let the marker slide over the whiteboards and carefully unravel a tangle of algebra until I know that I have an answer that is correct.

And in the next few breaths, I am capable of turning to another human being who has come to me for help and listening and asking questions until they smile and say “I have never understood this idea before and suddenly it makes sense to me. Thank you.”

And for a heartbeat I feel like I could do this work for the rest of my life.

But that would mean knowing for sure, and I don’t. I do not know for sure. I am pretty certain that not knowing for sure is true for a lot of people.

I am being honest with myself about it and I am doing things in my own goddamn time, and it is terrifying.

My father in particular has always told me not to compare myself to other people, because that way lies madness, and also that what other people think of me is none of my business.

I haven’t actually told him that I’m feeling any of this, but I know that it’s what he would say.

When I think about how he would feel if I said all these things, I imagine that it would be hard for him to watch me standing in my own way. I know he would tell me that I am enough just the way I am, and a very small part of me wouldn’t be able to know for sure, and it would make both of us sad.

He’s got this idea in his head that I will help to find the equation that will save the earth from climate change. He is positive that I could do this. And I’m not afraid not to live up to his expectations, because I know he will love me no matter what.

Ingham was right about my parents, at least.

Even if I don’t know about being enough for academia, I am always sure I’ve got my father’s love.

Which is good, because – I don’t want to be the one who finds that equation. I don’t want to have to do that by myself. I would like to do exceptionally well in my own little corner, and work side by side with people who are doing the same.

This is the truly hard work. This work, inside my head. And I am doing the best that I can.