Hallways that twist around themselves like a maze. Hundreds of strangers rushing about. Loud voices and laughter coming from all directions. Expectations from professors and family. The pressure of knowing that failure is not an option. This should be a recipe for disaster. I should be losing sleep, tormented by anxiety, convincing myself this was a mistake, and spinning around in circles. Instead, a different sort of feeling vibrates through me. Something unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Something I can only describe as confidence.
It has been seven years since my first stint at post-secondary education. Now, at the age of twenty nine, I am enrolled as a full-time college student of Journalism. I am at least ten years older than 95 percent of my classmates.
On the first day I arrived early after having slept well, eaten a balanced breakfast, and made the fifteen minute walk. Pumped up on caffeine and endorphins, I bounced through the halls with a smile on my face and quickly found my first class. My professor, who must have drank the same punch as I did that morning, flew into class like a ball of energy. The next two hours were a blur. By the end of class he was covered in sweat and I sat in wide-eyed amazement.
The following days have been much the same; with each new class the excitement builds. Slowly the work begins. There is much to learn; things that are so far beyond my realm of knowledge. These next two years will not be easy. Yet somehow, I feel ready for the challenge.
It was during a broadcast of the 2012 summer Olympics when I heard an athlete describe confidence as that little voice inside that tells us we belong. Colour me surprised to feel that inner validation that I am exactly where I need to be. 🙂