I will be completing my master’s degree in six months. I am writing my thesis. I am not an expert in anthropology, but I am going to be one of the few experts in my field. But there are days where I look at my work and ask myself if I really know what I am doing. The answer is, to an extent, yes. But there are times where I am making it up as I go along. Then I research what I am talking about and adapt my approach as needed.
Looking at where I am now and how six months from now I will be done. Free from the shelter of the academy and back out into the real, working world where I have no excuse for not having a full-time job, I am scared. I am scared that I will not have learned enough to bring this experience into the next steps of my life. I worry that I will not find a way to do the things I love: use my ability to research, write, and engage with others to draw attention to the problems in the world. I fear that I will have gone through two years doing something I love to come out the other side and go back into the kind of restrictive administrative work that wanted me to blindly follow orders and keep my mouth shut.
Neither of those things describe me. But neither does this fear of not being (good) enough. COVID-19 has been playing with my mind. I feel like no matter what I do, I feel like I am not making progress or going anywhere because I am literally staying in the same place nearly all day every day.
But I have come a long way in anthropology, in writing, and in life during this time. I may not know exactly how I am framing my thesis, even though I know how I am framing my data, I still have research to do. If I knew all the answers, I would not be doing a masters and I would not be researching my topic.
Same thing with these classes I am taking this semester. If I knew everything in them, there would be no point in paying for them.