self-actualization is terrifying.
everyone knows someone who kills the buzz every time they open up their mouth.
I remember the exact day I decided to pursue my Doctorate. It was a little over three years ago while I was working in the pediatric operating room. I immediately began formulating a plan to move out of my hometown to work in a high-acuity ICU. It all seemed amazingly ambitious in theory, and I remember the praise I received from peers and superiors alike. I spent every waking moment since that initial decision to further my education working as hard as I could to enter a notoriously competitive field. Along the way, through job changes, applications, interviews, and surprisingly, multiple acceptances, starting CRNA school still seemed so far away. As I sit here, 28 days away from moving to North Carolina and 45 days away from the start of my program, I’m wondering if I can do this. I don’t write this for pity or encouragement—I know that I’ll start school, find my footing, and finish. However, this level of success feels different, it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced or attempted, and I’m a little terrified.
I feel like this level of vulnerability requires a bit of back story. I’ve always been an above average student, nothing spectacular—I wasn’t valedictorian or anything—but I’ve always done well for myself when it comes to education. My first major educational roadblock came during my senior year of high school when I was rejected from Florida State University (FSU). FSU was my top (only) choice when it came to college, and I was absolutely devastated when I’d received news that I didn’t get in. I worked so hard to ensure I was an ideal candidate, and had a seemingly impressive application, but it wasn’t meant to be. Begrudgingly, I accepted my admission to the University of South Florida (USF) and spent the next year and a half of my life balling out. I partied, shopped, studied, and changed my major three times before settling on nursing. Once I’d figured out that I wanted to become a nurse, I continued working tirelessly to ensure admittance into the upper division nursing program at USF. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to continue my education at USF if I wasn’t accepted on my first try, and I began worrying I’d have to move back home with my parents and finish my nursing degree at a state college in my hometown. My second major educational roadblock came when I was denied entry into the upper division program that I’d worked my ass off to get into. Begrudgingly, I accepted my admission to the state college’s nursing program and by the end of it, I was a licensed registered nurse a week after my 21st birthday.
As I’ve gotten older, and more ambitious, I realize that those rejections have impacted a lot of my career choices. It’s so odd to hold the memory of trying and failing so closely, and still having the audacity to continue on into extremely competitive specialities. I could blame my aggressive personality, or my absolute hatred for the word “no”, or my astrology (Leo, Leo, Sag—remember?), to explain why I’m hung up on two setbacks that eventually resulted in me ultimately achieving my goal, and why I continue to buff the norm and attend a program that honestly, seemed far-fetched. Adjusting to the ebbs and flows of adult life has been a difficult concept for me to grasp. I’m still under the belief that if I want something, I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure it happens (insert chorus of Ariana Grande’s ‘7 Rings’). Reconciling with the fact that you can work hard and still not yield the desired result is fucking terrifying to me, and I think it explains the fear I feel with starting school again—what if I try and fail?
When I divulge that I’m pursuing a nurse anesthesia degree from Duke, I get one of three responses— “How did you pull that off?” or “Congratulations, that’s going to be really hard!” or “Wow, how the hell are you going to pay for that?” I don’t know if I get these answers because of Duke’s notoriety, or because I’m a young woman, or because I’m a Black woman; but when I hear those responses, I’m reminded of my own insecurities that I have about this whole thing. It’s so easy being able to tell people that I’ve not only accomplished this huge goal, but I’ve also accomplished it at an “Ivy Plus” school. I mean, come on, I am at the end of the day a Leo and a woman; obviously I want people to know I can do hard and cool shit, but I don’t want them to know that I’m nervous to do hard and cool shit.
This entire experience—from conceptualizing my dreams, working to ensure my applications stand out, multiple exams, submitting complex and expensive applications, completing daunting interviews, and finally being accepted has brought to life two competing ideas.
My personal belief that I’m a baddie who can do whatever I want became tangible with my acceptance to two competitive programs.
I have a brand new and terrible case of imposter syndrome.
As the start of classes rapidly approaches, I’ve been talking to my friends and family (and therapist; hey, Victoria!) about my newfound imposter syndrome and how I feel like I’m going to get to my first class and they’re going to realize they made a mistake. They’re going to tap me on my shoulder and say, “go ahead and log out for me.” In the very depths of my subconscious, I know that I belong in my program. I know that I am beyond qualified, but it gets hard to tune out the negative media surrounding CRNA school, the outlandish feedback I’ve gotten from some about my admission, and my own brain screaming at me 25/8. With that said, the three mantras I keep repeating to myself to drown out the “noise” are this:
I’ve earned my spot at Duke.
Even Beyonce and Simone Biles get nervous, it’s okay if I’m nervous too.
I will complete my DNAP.
My initial expectation to be excited to start this new chapter in my life without any hesitation or fear (healthy fear) is unrealistic. I’ve spent so much time in the last few months questioning my capability as a student, as a nurse, and as an ambitious Black woman; holding each rejection and setback close, in remembrance of my own experiences. Beginning a journey that once seemed so far away is so surreal. I finally have a dream actualized instead of a dream deferred. I feel so many powerful emotions as I begin my final degree: trepidation, excitement, determination… it’s overwhelming. To all the baddies that are doing hard shit: I see you, I’m proud of you, I’m with you, and we’ve got this. Feet don’t fail me now.