The Fear of Risk-Taking

Julianna Concepcion | Opinion Editor

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 In the four years I have been pursuing my education, I have finally realized something: I don’t take enough risks. Don’t get it twisted, I think I am a good student. I complete all my assignments, strive to do my best on projects, and work well with others. However, I was filling out a scholarship application (which I hardly ever do, as I am always confident that I will never be chosen as the recipient), and it reached the “awards” section. It was then that I realized that I have never gunned for any awards. Not for writing, not for my grades, nada.

 It was then that I closed the application and deleted it from my search history. Four years and a couple of proud moments are what I have to show, yet I expect to get into the best schools, get the best jobs, and get the best opportunities possible despite never working towards any specific goal. I tell myself every semester that I am going volunteer, but I never do because life and exhaustion always get in the way.  

In general, it feels like other people around me work much harder and get higher payoffs for what they do. It feels like other students have more energy, motivation, and need for all of these awards, or internships, or job opportunities. You could definitely call this imposter syndrome and be completely right. Imposter syndrome has possibly been affecting humans since the first professions were created. There were probably toolmakers who were jealous and unsure of themselves because the guy down the road was bartering with more customers. (I’m not sure how accurate any of that is, because I am too lazy to look up any historical evidence to support my imposter syndrome claims.)

 But, I think I'm most afraid of being told “no.”  

This reminds me a little bit of this piece I read in my Writing Memoirs class called “We Regret to Inform You” by Brenda Miller, which is a collection of “failures” she’s had in the form of rejection letters. The very first one begins in elementary school for her, saying: “Dear young artist: Thank you for your attempt to draw a tree. We appreciate your efforts, especially the way you sat patiently on the sidewalk, gazing at that tree for an hour before setting pen and paper, and the many quick strokes of charcoal you executed with enthusiasm. But your smudges look nothing like a tree. In fact, they look like nothing at all, and the pleasure and pride you take in the work are not enough to redeem it. We are pleased to offer you remedial training in the arts, but we cannot accept your ‘drawing’ for display. With regrets and best wishes, The Art Class / Andasol Avenue Elementary School.”

 These rejection letters go well into adulthood, and while we know that these are not real rejection letters she’s received, we do know that Miller has felt rejection enough to write this piece. They’re condescending and borderline confrontational of her abilities, showcasing that disdain that comes with reading a letter that begins with, “we regret to inform you...”  

 I’m so damn horrified of applying to graduate school and having to read that over, and over, and over...

And it seems that the only resolution is to either continue as I have been, give up, or work so damn hard that rejection isn’t even in question—but that unfortunately isn’t realistic. As much as I want to give into the idea of “grindset mindset” and facing rejection to come out stronger, that feels much less like a resolution to insecurity and more like a bad way to cope that only leads to working yourself into the ground.

I’ll just continue to compartmentalize and pray or something. Happy New Year!