Mental health: the fine line between sprinting and long distance running

On re-reading books and (im)possibilities

About 8 years ago — I was still in high school — I read The Angle Maker, by Stefan Brijs. Although I heard the translation is awful, I really liked the story line (about a man with both triplets and secrets).

My favourite part of the story was this thought, this idea that returned every once in a while: ‘Sometimes that which appears to be impossible is merely difficult’. It resonated with me for at least the past 8 years.

When my teachers told me I’d never make it in to university at all, it became my mantra: it may seem impossible, but if I work really hard, it’s only difficult.

And so I succeeded: I got up at 5 in the morning, worked from 5.30 till 7.30 to make some money, went to school till 3 in the afternoon, studied till 5, went home, had dinner with my family and went to bed around 8.30–9'ish. It didn’t seem like a perfect living, but I loved it: I had a (student) job, a nicely scheduled life, and amazing grades which made sure I got into the university of my choice.

At university, everything changed and it took me a year to get back my motivation and work ethic. I re-read Brijs’s book and found enough motivation to make a bold move: I wanted to take up more courses during my second year. That would mean I could get a double master’s degree in less time.

So I told a friend.

Instead of telling me that wouldn’t be such a good move, because it would be difficult, she said: I don’t only think you can do it, I think you should do it.

Feeling encouraged, I convinced the study counselor — telling her that sometimes what seems impossible, is merely difficult.

‘That is the mistake a great many researchers tend to make. They impose limits on themselves. They decide before they even start what can and what can’t be done. And if something is deemed impossible, they simply accept it as such. But sometimes that which appears to be impossible is merely difficult. It’s just a matter of persevering, isn’t it?’

Stefan Brijs — The Angel Maker

Although I wasn’t a researcher at that time, I didn’t impose limits. After all, it was just a matter of persevering, right? So I worked harder and harder and in the end, I not only had two master’s degrees, but also a position as a PhD student. Life was good.

As a researcher, I vowed I would never ever impose limits on me or my research. After all, I had already proven two times that it indeed was just a matter of persevering.

When the first disappointment came, I told myself: you just have to try a bit more, a bit harder. After the first panic attack, I said it was nothing. I simply had to keep on going and all the panic and anxiety would go away.

I couldn’t imagine back then how wrong I was.

I pushed myself so hard to do the impossible, that I wanted to quit. I couldn’t persevere anymore.

I just re-read the book for maybe the fourth or fifth time. And I think I’m finally getting it: it is about not accepting limits that others set for you, but at the same time, you have to be honest to yourself. If I honestly think I can do something, I should go for it. And I should not give up, if things don’t seem to work out the first time.

Before, I did things because they were said to be impossible — whether it be me going to a university or obtaining two master’s degrees — but also because I believed I could do them and they meant a lot to me. Nonetheless, I became the girl who did the impossible things. So that’s what I searched for in life: what’s the next nearly-impossible to accomplish?

I want to stop thinking that way. I want to think freely of what I want to do and I want to go for it, regardless of the fact it’s an impossibility or not.

It was easier when I was still in high school or studying. Those (im)possibilities were like sprinting races: short, fast runs with me ending out of breath at the finish line — but at the same time happy and proud.

Now, almost halfway through my PhD track, I finally understand that this is a race for long distance runners. And that is a matter of persevering.

‘It’s just a matter of persevering, isn’t it?’
‘And that, happily, is what you have done.’