“This is really good; it’s definitely something you should pursue. Let’s chat more about it when you have time. S.”

Hi, it’s been a while.

Life got crazy, messy and I learned that there’s at least 87 more things that can make me cry (anyone else been reduced to tears by a tiny pumpkin?). I realised I haven’t written since June. Well, I have written since June, but those pieces are sat in my hard drive, untouched and unedited because I’m yet to convince myself they’re any good. This morning I told my team that I “write a blog”, which I then felt intrinsically guilty for even saying because publishing two pieces online and then essentially putting this blog on a shelf to gather dust does not equate to me being a blogger (thank god I didn’t get any interviews with companies where my cover letter had raved about my excellent time management skills that came with managing writing my thesis AND being an online literary entity). I am a fraud. Not because I wanted to be, but I let life get the better of me and decided I didn’t want to take fieldnotes for a while.

So, a brief summary of why I couldn’t be the successful writer I was so hoping I could be;

• I went to Cape Verde and it took up the entire month of July – good thing
• I finished my Masters in Freshwater and Marine Ecology and wrote a pretty decent thesis in August– Good thing
• A best friend of mine was extremely brave and moved to the USA and I also made a lot of time to be with my wonderful friends to ensure a balance between work & play in August – good thing
• I got a really nice boyfriend who I spent lots of time with in September (technically July) – really good thing
• I went to Spain and Ireland in September and October – good thing
• I spent a lot of time nannying and babysitting along with working in my lovely coffee shop from September onwards – good (tiring) thing
• I moved to the Philippines to be a research assistant on a whale shark project in November and have been here since – good thing
• On 1^st January 2020 we were in a very dramatic vehicle accident which Michael Bay could have only WISHED was part of the Transformer movie series (no, your life doesn’t flash before your eyes, all you see is the ground and sky swap places the number of times your vehicle rolls) – very bad thing, but luckily we all came out not seriously damaged, and I keep saying “autoboots, roll out” to myself because we were all thrown out of a rolling sidecar and it makes me chuckle – good thing

• I went to funeral of the person who encouraged me to start this writing venture and I am 100% certain I have not published anything since because he won’t be able to read it and he’s the first to proof read because for some strange reason he liked my writing and thinks I’m funny and that really, really kills me even writing this now, on 11^th January 2020 so even though he thought it was really good; it wasn’t something I wanted to pursue – very bad thing

Not having a person that proof reads, that helps you better yourself and something you want to be good at because they are really good at it, is really hard. Proof reading and constructive criticism on a piece of writing can make it the best it’s going to be, which for a perfectionist with imposter syndrome who wants to make everyone happy like myself, is exceptionally useful and something I am very grateful for. However, in real life, not the stuff I put down on paper waiting for someone to check if my joke got across or if I correctly italicised a species name, there’s no one to proof read the “story that is my life”. Which makes sense as to why I couldn’t find anything online about how I could become a scientist other than just *doing it* because that’s what all the other scientists are doing. Just living life, seeing something didn’t work and then facing the problem head on to get the anticipated results. I try and do this with the ordinary life things too, but it is exceptionally difficult when you’re a perfectionist with imposter syndrome who wants to make everyone happy.

Quite frankly, this feeling of not belonging or having a *right* to be where I am in life mostly comes out in the form of frustration and, you guessed it, crying, because I have no means to believe that what I create or do justifies my place there. Hence why the reassurance of proof reading or having some sort of guidance in what to do, is momentary relief that you’re doing a-ok, kid. It’s difficult for me to believe in myself and give myself credit for the things I’m doing, and the things I’ve done, when I feel like I’m constantly tripping up and tumbling whilst simultaneously not doing enough to make something of myself and have people be proud of me. I am one for working extremely hard, but seeing the brilliance of so many others can make it somewhat difficult to believe that I deserve my place among them. Because honestly, how can someone who wants to spend all their time in the ocean, really truly say they belong there if they only found out last year that they’d been saying “anenome” rather than “anemone” their whole life…

I fear getting things wrong because I don’t want to disappoint the people I care about or the people I want to prove myself to. One of the definitions of anxiety is;

“apprehension about future suffering — the fearful anticipation of an unbearable catastrophe one is hopeless to prevent”

 so put it into context of the perfectionist with imposter syndrome who wants to make everyone happy and you get;

“apprehension about future suffering – the fearful anticipation of an unbearable catastrophe caused by me not doing everything correctly thus I will be abandoned by everyone important to me because I will have failed them and I won’t be a happy scientist with the cool scientist boyfriend and rescued dog and maybe twelve hamsters or lizards and lots of cool friends who are really  smart and funny and inspiring and supportive and I’ll have been expelled from the scientific community because everyone I wanted to work with or wanted to impress with my strange brain would be embarrassed to have me anywhere near their email inbox, let alone on fieldwork with them, and I won’t even be able to pursue my really secret back-up plan of being a burlesque dancer because after this unbearable catastrophe I’ll have the confidence of an aging shoe horn”.

Me, dramatic? Never.

Do you think baby birds, such as barnacle geese, get that feeling? Ok, they definitely don’t have secret dreams of becoming burlesque dancers (you bet your ass I tried to draw that), but do you think they have the “fearful anticipation of an unbearable catastrophe one is hopeless to prevent” when they stand on the edge of a cliff face and prepare to jump? Literal babies that are maximum 3 days old. Do they watch their mum do it and go “crazy bitch, no way” or do they know that actually, they are so light and fluffy that they’re going to bounce their way down, trip up and tumble, and then they will be fine and cute as ever, and maybe just a little scruffy for a few days?

              The scientist Marc Bekoff wrote a book entitled “The Emotional Lives Of Animals” suggests two different theories about observing disorderly mental behaviours in animals; those suffering don’t make it, or humans don’t know enough about what constitutes as “normal” vs “mentally ill” animal behaviour. Think about how many times you would have no idea that someone may have been struggling if all you could do was watch them from afar (don’t do that though, creepy). And then this goes further still, our genes dictate our behaviours. Around 550 million years ago, a tiny sea worm had a weird genetic mutation that made the DIg gene, a synapse gene essential for coding proteins that are central to many cognitive processes, duplicated twice, leaving vertebrates with four DIg genes, complex behaviours and for some of us, crippling anxiety about the unbearable catastrophe that is their future. Invertebrates don’t have this, which continues to support my theory that I would be a brilliant hermit crab, but as this gene duplicated so long ago, psychological disorders must have begun early in animal evolution. Literally have no idea how you’d be able to tell if a prehistoric sea worm had anxiety, but there you have it.

Although we can trace anxiety to schizophrenia back millions of years, imposter syndrome is considered a “phenomenon” opposed to a mental disorder. Imposter syndrome is coined as a pattern of behaviour where people (even when exhibiting evidence of success) doubt their abilities and have a persistent fear of being exposed as a fraud, which I funnily described myself as before I looked up the actual in-print definition of imposter syndrome. Now as much as I’d like to try, I would find it exceptionally hard to find any evidence to find an animal that doesn’t believe in itself. I think the best I’m going to do here is the male mourning cuttlefish, who when doesn’t believe he stands a chance of beating a larger male to access a female, he changes colour to look like a female which tricks the male into thinking he belongs under his watch. However, these guys won’t have those 4 pesky DIg genes, so although complex behaviour, it’s a fairly straightforward solution to gaining access to a mate when you don’t feel you *quite* have what it takes.

All the self-help books, pep talks and proof-reads-that-lead-to-good-grades in the world may not ease the feeling of imposter syndrome. Whether that in my larger journey in my academic career, my current job, or my current personal relationships that make me go “god how did I get lucky enough to have you guys there for me when I’m an anxious self-loathing worm currently masquerading as a whale shark scientist in a Jurassic park t-shirt?”, the anxiety about being perfect is likely going to be much easier to understand than why I can never accept myself and my stumbles-into-success. For me it must be easier to acknowledge there’s a problem there, and ask someone to take a look and see how they’d make it better, than actually telling myself I am alright just as I am, and the “making better” might just happen with time.

So, here’s to a piece of writing that hasn’t been proof read, that has been a stream of consciousness because I had a burst of motivation to finally write. There will *hopefully* be many pieces of writing that’s get proof-read by many people as I make my way up in the world of scientific writing, I can skip this one. I am not perfect, I never will be, but I can keep doing all the things I do that I know make me a strong, hard-working and caring individual. I will never have someone telling me how to “write my narrative”, but I can look to others for guidance and base my actions off what I think will fit my story. I will always be anxious, and it might take me a while to find my groove in a new scenario, scientific or personal, but I’ll try my best to get there as quick as I can whilst forgiving myself for making mistakes along the way.

 It is going to take me a while to figure out how to be an admirable scientist, it will take me even longer to believe that I belong there, and I will never figure out how to be “perfect” at life. I will continue to roll with the punches (and hopefully not with any more vehicles). I will always trip up, I will probably accidentally drag other people down when I stumble occasionally too, but the most important thing is to go for it – life can be really good; it’s definitely something you should pursue.

C.