You seem so average for a student who used to be on top

Sophia Gime 

How does one measure worth when the applause fades, and who are we becoming in the uncomfortable space between who we used to be and who we are still struggling to become? 

Sometimes, while scrolling through Facebook, I see photos of students being congratulated for representing the school or our program. Their smiles are framed by certificates, medals, and captions filled with pride. Other times, I watch someone walk across a stage while people clap loudly for their achievements, including me, and for a brief moment, I find myself staring a little longer than I should.

Not out of envy, but because I understand exactly what those feelings are like.

Because I remember the time when those moments belonged to me too.

There was a time that I carried recognition like it was part of my name. Teachers chose me to represent the school  because they saw my performance, they saw what I could do. I had this quiet, oozing confidence — the kind that helped make things feel within reach. Back then, I moved through a familiar gamut of tasks, and no matter how wide it seemed, I found my place in it — I was happy. 

Then, here comes college. 

Somewhere between choosing a path I didn’t plan, choosing a different program, moving to a new place, and trying to deal with unfamiliar faces, I began to feel stranger to myself. 

At first, I tried to keep my composure, to stay calm as everything shifted, as I tried to grasp the parts of myself that are slowly sinking. The people, the standards, even how success looks… it all changed. What once felt natural now feels distant, like an anachronism, a version of myself that no longer fits the present. In high school, I knew exactly where I stood. In college, everything became uncertain. There are moments when I sit in silence looking at the sky and wonder if I was only good within the limits of the world I used to know.

College showed me that excellence is not something you can effortlessly hold forever. There will always be someone who’s better than you. There will always be people smarter, more talented, more prepared, and more accomplished than you. In this new arena, the demands grow heavier, the competition intensifies, and then all that used to make you special becomes ordinary.

“You seem so average for a student who used to be on top.”

These words echo longer than they should have. 

Maybe they stayed because a part of me believed them?

I started noticing how different everything felt. The confidence I once carried so easily became hesitation. The tasks that I do naturally now take twice the effort. Sometimes, I look around and feel like everyone else is moving forward while I am still trying to figure out where I belong in all of this. I started to feel like I was no longer good at anything anymore, even at the things I used to do well. It was as if my capacities had shrunk, like I could no longer hold everything I once could with ease. 

I remember from one of our Developmental Psychology modules that growth comes with discomfort: that when your environment expands, your sense of self has to catch up. 

But, it doesn’t always feel inspiring, not in the way I thought it would. 

I thought growth would feel like becoming more of who I am, not like slowly losing the parts of me that once made me feel certain and capable. It feels like surviving, like adapting every day just to keep up and not stand out. It feels like grieving the version of yourself that used to be living. 

What am I going to do? If these thoughts and emotions keep creeping on me every night, when it’s supposed to be quiet, when I am supposed to feel at ease?

Maybe this is what it means to move forward? 

To let it sink. That the past version of me isn’t gone. I must trust the idea that it just belongs to a different time, that even if I feel smaller in a bigger world, I am still moving, still changing. Maybe that’s how it should be. 

Life’s challenges will always be bigger than ourselves, but that does not mean we are becoming stagnant. It only  means we are being stretched into someone who can meet them, slowly growing into a version of ourselves that no longer needs to stand out and prove ourselves to move forward. 

Maybe being “average” does not mean we are losing our light.

Maybe it simply means we can still shine from within, and that the most lasting kind of worth is from that inner light, not from being at the top.