When I transferred to the University of Alabama the fall after my sophomore year, I was intimidated. I was saying goodbye to my small, local university where I excelled in and out of the classroom. I had earned the top honor from the president himself recognizing my volunteer work, made the president’s list multiple times and had a solid support system in the form of professors and advisers. I felt prideful in my accomplishments at my college, but I knew what was awaiting me in Tuscaloosa that upcoming fall. I knew I had much bigger shoes to fill as a student at the Capstone.

My first year here truly set the tone for how competitive, intense and challenging academics were at this school. The friends I made here were all in the Honors College, had internships and had a plethora of prior research experience. I was coming in with none of that. I felt a little disadvantaged at first, but also challenged. I told myself, “I could catch up with them.” I felt that it was completely possible and rational to become the embodiment of what I thought an Alabama student was. While a bold idea in hindsight, it eventually became a terrible obsession that would lead me to feel inadequate, useless and pathetic as a scholar.

To “catch up” with my friends academically, I started taking on a lot more than I could realistically handle. I picked up a research assistant position, got a part-time on-campus job, joined extracurricular organizations and volunteered for numerous organizations, all on top of taking an average of 17 credit hours. I was empowered by these activities, but for some reason, it didn’t seem like it was enough. 

I discovered that my one kryptonite was my lack of an internship. Everyone around me had one. In my mind, no matter what I accomplished, it wouldn’t be enough if I didn’t have internship experience. With these thoughts, I began doubting everything I did. What was the point? In my head, my friends clearly had more experience, were more intelligent and had a much higher chance of landing their dream job. For me, there was no chance of ever reaching that level of sophistication.

These thoughts ate away at me when it came to my academic life. Eventually, I started speaking with a career counselor from the Career Center. She reassured me that I had plenty of professional experience, and no one ever had “everything” on a resume. This was comforting for the time being, but my maladaptive thinking and self-doubt kept haunting me. I had no idea why I was in such distress over not having had one minuscule experience. At that point in time, I didn’t even realize where it was coming from. Why couldn’t I just be happy with what I had?

Somehow, I figured out that this lack of satisfaction was coming from my continuous habit of comparing myself to others. I would look at what my roommate, my sister, my friends and my coworkers were doing with their lives, and decide that what I was doing was simply not enough. It would never be enough. Upon realizing where my lack of happiness academically was coming from, I was able to check myself more. I started to understand that I wasn’t a superhero and I couldn’t do everything. However, I also realized that neither could anyone else. Everyone that I would compare myself to was in the same exact boat as me. While still hard to stomach, it became a little easier for me to appreciate the hard work I was doing, rather than shame it for not being “good enough.”

It is a never-ending process for me to not compare myself to those around me. Some days are worse than others; occasionally I’m still left feeling inadequate and stuck in my academic endeavors. However, some days are good. Some days I appreciate all that I have accomplished. One of my favorite quotes is “comparison is the thief of joy.” From first-hand experience, I wholeheartedly believe it. As the semester winds down and all of your friends continue on their journey, remember that you are also on your own journey and you’re doing amazing things too. 

Shaina Suzor is a senior majoring in psychology.