Academia Gothic

Picture it! It’s 2022. I sit internally mortified and placid-faced as my mentor suggests I take a leave of absence from my Master’s program. I spent two years and several months completing my bachelor’s degree and catapulted myself into the Master’s program with only three letters of recommendation and half of my required portfolio. In short, my written works had spoken for themselves. I carried my confidence in my ability to paint words into the thesis like acrylic on canvas. Despite my crippling fear of public speaking and my natural ability to verbally trip over my own tongue, the written word was my voice and my solace.

But all of that would come to a screeching halt with one visit to the doctor who no more gave a shrug and a sigh before telling me, “Looks like you’re dealing with Long-Covid.” Months prior to this diagnosis, I began battling headaches, bouts of severe fatigue, loss of motivation, and an ever growing struggle to write. At first, I accepted I was probably on the verge of burnout. Turns out, it was both. Where I had once excelled in completing stacks of papers and reading multiple books at once, I now found it excruciating trying to remember concepts and recording them in my own words. It was as if someone, or something, mass deleted several academic years of my life in an instant.

Well, readers, suffice it to say I accepted the leave of absence and spent many months in burnout and Long-Covid recovery. Throw some depression into the mix, and you have quite a mixer of a cesspool cocktail. I stopped writing. The fear of no longer measuring up to my academic peers crippled me. I could no longer remember basic facts about my favorite subjects without long periods of contemplation. Doubt soaked into my everyday existence.

So, what happened? Spite. As much as I wanted to give up and bed rot, I refused to let this beat me. But I was not going to force myself back into the academic world. In some sort of internal healing ritual, my inner teenager breached the surface. Horror movies, the smutty fanfiction (lemons not limes IYKYK), and sleepless nights reading arrived at the forefront of my life once again. I rediscovered my joy in the written word.

Short stories that toyed with familiar film characters evolved into my newfound journey of the southern gothic monster novel.

I hope this porthole into my backstory gives inspiration to anyone fighting burnout or Long-Covid. Sometimes, the best route to find ourselves again is one we thought we’ve left behind.

If you’ve made it to the end, thank you for sticking around. As always, be kind to one another.

A.P.

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Further Thought

No two comfort characters are alike. In this turbulent uncertain world, perhaps we often question the validity of other people’s comfort characters. Or, concerning my therapist, my comfort characters. But regardless of why they are so coveted, they can be the epicenter of our self-expression. And in my case, the reason for my new found inspiration.

So, without explanation, I am willingly offering an insight into the characters that helped me make use of my spite.

I’m curious, readers. What are your comfort characters? I’m opening the floor for discussion. This is by no means a “Hear Me Out” moment unless you’re feeling brave.