First of all: I’m a gym addict. The type of gym that looks like a big garage, has a lot of free weights and free live entertainment in the form of elite athletes (Sportja Leiden, if you’re interested ;) ). When we have to run during a class, that usually raises collective moans. However, much to my surprise, the improving weather has given me the itch to start running again. I scratched that itch too hard. The result: I injured my knee.

The timing of this injury wasn’t great. My faculty organises a running fundraiser each year, called the Leiden Science Run. This year, I was planning to participate for the first time, with my colleagues. It’s a very informal occasion, so I decided to join anyways, but I wasn’t sure whether I would be able to finish because of the injury.

It was a beautiful day, and it was a fun and relaxed afternoon. I started my run full of hope, but had to stop halfway. The tell-tale tightness started in my injured leg. So, I stopped in time and walked the rest of the course, including the finish. I did everything right: I listened to my body and didn’t push it past its limits. Nobody criticised me for this. I knew it wouldn’t have made sense to run over the finish just for the sake of appearances, and hurt myself even further. So why did I feel so bothered by what others would think of me?

This is a pretty uncontroversial example of a situation where it would be reasonable to let go of thoughts about what other people would be thinking. It was a safe environment: low stakes, people you trust. It certainly didn’t hurt anyone that I walked over the finish line. Still, I was trying to read other people’s minds and interpret them. What would that photographer be thinking about me ? Should I refuse the medal?

To be honest, it is shocking to me that this occupation with what others think of me is rooted so deeply. It even transcends my own actions: I am often incapable of understanding how other people can do certain things that I think are disruptive, like smoking on a terrace. How is it possible that they care so little about what the people around them think? I assume they must either be purposefully egoistic, or some kind of psychopath. The irony is that this tells you more about me than about them: I make big assumptions about what other people are thinking and attach a judgement to that.

All of this energy that is lost in caring about what others think obviously over-complicates my life. But if I have learned one thing, it’s that I need to be less self-critical and embrace who I am. When I look in the mirror, I see my grandma who corrects my hair and clothes, even for informal pictures. I see my mother, who is too shy to ask the neighbours to feed the rabbits for a week, and would rather have me come over by train – daily – to do it. And really, this type of thinking is also not particularly helpful to the people around me. It makes me stressed and high-strung. It took me the longest time to admit to myself that it comes from a place of insecurity and doubt, even though I highly value self-trust and confidence. I know that I would also be much easier to work with were I less insecure.

I’m learning, though. Julia of the past would definitely not have walked over the finish line. What’s more, I don’t think Julia of the past would have registered the “mind reading” – to put it into therapy terms. So, let’s not forget to celebrate partial victories, too. I’m definitely keeping that medal.

Cheers!

February 26, 2023

Essays

Something a friend from uni told me last week over coffee got me thinking

Impostor Syndrome

February 19, 2023

Essays

The impostor syndrome - every PhD student gets it at some point, or so I’m told. For me, it’s hard to disentangle from my own perfectionism: I’m tempted to think whatever I do is not good enough, regardless of how good I think I am at something compared to other people.