“One step ahead, a thousand steps behind” is the best summary of what college feels like. One second you’re on top of the world, everything seems to work out and then boom — it’s gone.
It doesn’t help when I look around me and, suddenly, it feels like everyone else was born with the answers — how to react, what to do, everything. It feels like they have it all embedded deep in their souls.
Sadly, since I was not born with these answers, college has been a humbling experience. It has been filled with lessons, whether I wanted them or not. After midterms, I was left sitting in a puddle of questions. What if I’m not doing enough? What if everything I’m doing is wrong? Honestly, sometimes it feels like maybe I don’t know anything anymore.
It’s not uncommon for my friends and me to discuss feeling as though we are falling behind, like something is missing. These feelings only get worse during exams.
To destress, I journal — in my ever-decreasing spare time. As I was choosing what to write about this month, the feeling of being behind weighed heavily on me, so I talked to a friend about my feelings. I didn’t know how to write about this feeling so central to my college experience. Her response was simple: “You feel this way because you’re comparing yourself.”
Sure, comparison is the thief of joy. But this idea was more complex and, in my opinion, never realistically portrayed for minorities. As a first-generation Latina student, I was brought up to think I had to work harder and harder and suffer and suffer so my circumstances would eventually get better. And the alternative was this perfect imaginary storyline where something suddenly switches and I become a millionaire.
I compared myself to people who had circumstances I couldn’t dream of — circumstances that allowed them to be the center of their own universe, rather than focusing on those around them. I compared myself to people who are not defined by the lack of opportunities given to those who came before them. There was no catch-up game for them — only a clear start and finish line.
I’m not saying it’s not important to consider that some people’s success comes more easily due to certain privileges, but knowing my peers may have it easier was never comforting. It made me resentful.
And not to discount myself. I am smart, I work hard, but it doesn’t have to be this hard. It may not be the most mature response, but I think it’s more honest to admit that before we reach the lesson at the end that everyone talks about, we have to sit in the ugly for a bit.
I tried to ignore some of the stressors I faced, which I know aren’t uncommon, like the financial burden of paying tuition and sustaining myself with no one to fall back on, having a family who never really understood the U.S. schooling system and, quite frankly, only recently learned how to get themselves around. I’m not trying to diminish their accomplishments — trust me, I love them and I know they did their best with their upbringing. They came to the United States to give me a better life, so now I feel guilty for feeling so down. I know the opportunities I have are privileges and that realization only deepens my guilt.
But two things can coexist. I can be trying my best and looking to the future in prospects of prospering while also being bitter and, in some weird way, betrayed by my circumstances.
As I continued to feel stuck, one of my high school teachers, whom I’ve always kept in touch with, came to mind. She warned me about the dreaded imposter syndrome. Knowing my personality, she thought I might have successfully avoided it. Yet there I was, feeling stuck, stupid and useless. I texted her and admitted my defeat. I hate being vulnerable and I didn’t want to admit that something might be wrong or that I might not know how to fix it. Writing this column is part of facing that reality.
College is hard. The only real lesson I’ve learned so far is that the only thing worse than things not working out is staying stuck in the problem.
I’m sad to report I don’t have the answer to how to do this yet. Like so many of my peers, I’m still trying to figure it out. Maybe one day I’ll write another column about how I came close to understanding something. But for now, I’m a little lost and that’s okay.
I like to think we are all a little lost. Some of us are just better at hiding it. It can get so tiring to be understanding of circumstances or reasons and to stay positive. I want things to work out. I don’t want to have to consider external factors. I want to live the life I’m supposed to without having to fight for everything I have.
I hope, for myself and every reader who can relate to this feeling, that our circumstances of confusion will one day reward us with a clearer path with fewer bumps in the road, because things do have a way of working out in the end.
Gisselle Tapia is a sophomore majoring in psychology.
Views expressed in the opinions pages represent the opinions of the columnists. The only piece that represents the view of the Pipe Dream Editorial Board is the staff editorial.