Note: I wrote this last night, Sunday, August 17th.

Tuesday morning (August 4th), just before I left for my Biology lab, I reluctantly turned in my Biology Lab report on my research into the Metagenomics of Bacteria, believing that it was complete and utter dogshit. Indeed, I was convinced that I failed that paper before I even turned it in; therefore failing the class entirely (as I needed to pass the paper in order to pass the class).

Unfortunately, my anxiety took over after that. On the drive home from my lab later that morning, I’d somehow convinced myself that I was a terrible scientist. Never mind the fact that I’d successfully bred and sorted hundreds of genetically-modified flies in order to test their ability to recover from being frozen in a bucket of ice. Never mind the fact that my TA didn’t even have a chance to glance at my paper before I sped home from the lab. Never mind the fact that I had an A- in the class, already. 

My anxiety couldn’t care less about logic. According to my anxiety, I was a bad scientist, and always would be a bad scientist, and I ought to quit right then and there instead of continuing to tackle the complicated science of Biology any further. 

If that all sounds absurd, that’s because it is. 

Even in the moment, while fear made its nest inside my heart, I knew that my anxiety was stupid. And yet, I still found myself spiraling for days.

Until I got my grade back. 

Friday (August 8th), I quickly logged into my student account and scrolled down to the grades tab in my Biology lab course. I clicked it and immediately looked away, bracing myself for, what my anxiety deemed, the inevitable F. 

When I garnered the courage to look at my screen, my mouth dropped open. I got an 83% on the paper, uncurved, and an 87% on the paper, curved. Meaning, that I got a B+ on the worst lab report on Metagenomics to ever exist, ever! Even better, I was ahead of the class curve; the average curved grade in the class was 75%. 

I’d spent weeks at that point, agonizing over my paper, only to get very tough, almost discouraging feedback on it from my TA. Her feedback never had anything to say about me, per se, aside from one comment I got on my final rough draft of the paper which read, “You are conducting real, original research that will be shared with other scientists and professors all over the world. You are no longer just a student. You are a scientist. Write like it!”

In the end, I apparently did “write like a scientist” to get a B+,  whatever that meant. 

Sadly, I’d wasted so many hours of my semester freaking out over something that turned out to not be true. I’d successfully convinced myself that I was a terrible scientist and would fail hard at that class, because I barely understood the topic of Metagenomics, let alone my own writing on the subject. Therefore, I convinced myself that I was the dumbest student in the class, by far, and I’d never make it as a scientist in the real world. 

Even now, after getting real, tangible evidence against my anxious notions, I still struggle to accept that I’m truly a scientist, conducting original scientific work in my undergraduate lab courses. I still get needlessly worried about my ability to do well in my classes when I sign up for them, no matter what they are. 

Sometimes, I manage to feign confidence. But most of the time, I manage to convince myself that I’ll embarrass myself in the class and fail, long before I even sign up for it. Anxiety is a vicious bitch!