I would like to say that I think of my future minimally. That I live in the moment, processing each thought one at a time and tackling challenges as they come. Though that would be the furthest thing from the truth.
I’ve always lived in the future, even as a young girl. It’s what gives me the momentum to accomplish what I have, and honestly, what allows me to face each day determined to make it better than the one before. But with this comes my greatest flaws: my debilitating anxiety and my fear of failure.
I’ve never met anyone who flat-out said they’re “okay with failing.” To me, failure was synonymous with depletion, disappointment and unworthiness. I lived in the future because I hated my present. I daydreamed for hours, running from a reality that didn’t align with my goals. I despised that my dreams still felt far away.
I had my first panic attack at sixteen. It was after a difficult friendship breakup that forced me to confront a version of the future I hadn’t planned for. It wasn’t about losing the person, it was about losing control of the vision I had built for myself. My second panic attack came at seventeen, my Dad and I were having a conversation about my upbringing (another big hazard sign in my brain; the past), and at 18, I had a panic attack that went on and off before the summer of Freshman Year of college. When I faced what I believed was my first true failure.
My dream was always to go away to college, to study at a Big Ten school, and live the life I had imagined. But those dreams came with a heavy price tag, one I couldn’t afford to pay. And when reality hit, I spiraled into depression. I still had moments of joy, but deep down, I was convinced that my chances at the future I wanted were gone. I had failed.
So why am I writing about failure? Because that same fear resurfaced recently when I was told I could graduate early. I was ecstatic, but doubt crept in. Will I fail again? Will I end up back in that same dark place?
The human brain is funny when it recognizes familiar emotions. This time, instead of letting anxiety consume me, I’m learning to channel it. I’ve chosen discipline over doubt, growth over fear. Maybe failure isn’t the end I once believed it to be, maybe it’s just the beginning of becoming who I was meant to be all along.