I feel like someone that’s jumped in the English channel and decided to learn how to swim half way to France.
When we were kids we would go to the lake during the summer. There was a bright orange safety line that would mark how far out you could swim. Every summer our goal was always to reach that orange line. It always seemed so far away and there was such a longing watching the teenagers and adults swimming out there and hanging on the orange line.
Every trip to lake would start out the same. The goal was the orange line. Nothing else mattered. It always started out easy enough, lulling me into a false confidence. I can do this. I’m doing this. This isn’t so bad. I can make it. Then the ground disappears. Ok, no more walking, straight swimming. I can do this. As long as I can keep my head above water and my eyes on the orange line I can do this.
Then the waves start rolling in.
I would kick and swim as hard as my arms and legs could manage. Every time I recovered from wave, there would be a brief reprieve and then the onslaught would continue. Eventually I’d have to admit defeat and return to the more shallow areas.
That’s how school feels. Every semester I’m jumping in the water making a mad dash for that orange line. I start out well but then I’m quickly in over my head. This semester seems so much more difficult. The material is so much more complicated, the expectations are higher, there’s a lot more riding on these last two semesters, than any of the previous ones. This is the point in my academic career where I have to prove myself and that’s kicked this Impostor Syndrome into high gear. Think I was scared of being exposed as a fraud before? Multiply that fear by a million and you’re still light years from it.
Since I’m off my meds and out of therapy, I’m trying to remember some of the techniques my old therapist gave me.