Lovely Science Burnout

My roommate and I are not science majors.

I mean, we are, technically. But we’re kind of strange science majors.

We both became embroiled in this facet of academia with the idea that we wanted to go into the medical field. She into nursing and myself into physical therapy. I had always been a science nerd, and biology was a good fit.

But as life and college and classes went on, we realized that studying and facts and research for extended periods of time were not for us.

At least not for right now. My roommate may or may not study nursing further down the line, but me—after college, I’m jumping ship.

And as we have a particular distaste for studying, easily illustrated by my degeneration to a whining immature puddle of nope the night before an invertebrate zoology exam, the burnout is hitting us hard. It’s week 11 of fall semester. Regardless of the fact that we have lost all motivation for academia, we’re in the beginning of the windup for this semester, and we have a good six months left before we graduate.

My roommate has a heart for people, fellowship, connection, and mine is for words, color, communication. And these come into play in the science world—but currently not in the ways we need in order to stay sane.

So most of our time is spent with our minds elsewhere.

But sometimes we have to be dragged kicking and screaming back to our responsibilities, because supposedly we want to graduate. At this point, that goal is a do-or-die. I have to pass my classes because if I don’t, I might just peace out.

If we make it, my roommate’s thinking of going to work for a non-profit after graduation and, God willing, I’ll be going on to art school and book writing.

But for now, we are science majors, hanging onto our interest in the discipline for dear life.

And I have to force myself to remember that no matter what happens, even when I feel like I should be able to do better, I am doing the best I can right now. And that’s all I can do. And that’s ok.

I find I like that word a lot: Ok.

All right.




As a recovering perfectionist, I need such words.

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