Happy Monday! I don’t know about you, but I’m no longer 22! Sunday marked my 23rd birthday, and likely my last 25-hour-long birthday due to the end of daylight saving time. Every year, I take a few minutes to think about my new age and what cool properties it has. So let’s take a minute to do that. Firstly, and most importantly, 23 is a prime number! 22 was not – but it was a part of my favourite set of multiples (multiples of 11). The concept of what is/isn’t a prime number is easily accessible to non-mathematicians but the nature of prime numbers is one of the most elusive, unsolved, and contentious topics in contemporary math. 23 is also the smallest odd prime that is not a “twin prime” – meaning that neither of its nearest odd-number neighbours are prime numbers (twin primes are actually really important in the study of prime numbers). Another cool thing: the sum of the first 23 primes is 874, which is also divisible by 23 – this is a rare trait for a prime number to have. 23 also has the property of being one of only two integers that cannot be expressed as the sum of fewer than 9 cubes of positive integers (the other is 239). Anyway, if you happen to get bored today you can learn more about the number 23 here. It’s always exciting to be a prime number age. Unfortunately, the next time I’ll be a prime number age won’t be until I’m 29.
Let’s take a moment to reflect on this past year as a 22-year-old. I can’t say that there has ever been a year in my life that has endured a magnitude of change like this one has. Some of these changes were planned and expected, some of them were not. I knew in August 2019 (when I was 21) that I’d be coming to work at the mine after I graduated in May of this year. So this year’s transition from Toronto to my new town was planned and expected even before I turned 22. However, there often is a large gap between how you feel about what is expected and how you actually end up feeling in the midst of these changes. It was a lot more stressful and anxiety-inducing than I had ever anticipated it would be. Fortunately, even though I tend to be an anxious person, I’ve never actually let myself feel hopeless about any situation – this was no different.
When I got the job offer on my last day as a student at the mine in 2019, I drove home to Sudbury and cried nearly the entire three-and-a-half hour trip. I was sad to be leaving such a lovely, fun environment only to go back to the unrelenting stress of the University of Toronto – but I mostly cried because I was so overwhelmed that I had actually done something to prove to this company that I was worth bringing back. I was so incredibly happy and excited to know that I’d be working here again. The job offer also derailed (in an instant) all of my plans to go to grad school for physics; Though, when comparing how school made me feel and how working at the mine made me feel – at the end of the day, it was a no-brainer. From the start of my final school year in September and until I moved out in March, I kept the job offer pinned to my wall above my bed as a reminder for what was waiting for me at the end of the tunnel. In the moments where I felt even an ounce of apprehensiveness or uncertainty about my decision, I just remembered my last day as a student at the mine and how much I didn’t want to leave.
Even though school has always been a challenge – it was also the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done. This year, I got to take two graduate physics courses: one in general relativity, and one in particle physics. I also took an ancient Greek language course! Learning how to read ancient Greek was a lot of fun but unfortunately it is not overly useful – nobody speaks ancient Greek anymore. In second semester I took a philosophy course on scientific paradoxes which was probably one of the most rewarding courses I’ve ever taken. We learned about philosophers such as Zeno & Parmenides, Descartes, Newton, Clarke, Leibniz, Kuhn, Hume, and Popper. I also did well in Combinatorics, which made me feel a lot more secure about my mathematical skills & knowledge. All in all, it was my favourite school year yet – especially without the high pressures and stress that comes along with applying to grad school.
Unfortunately, things took a strange turn in March when quarantine began. Anybody who knows me can attest to my lifelong health-related anxiety; For instance, I’m often worried that I’m having a heart attack, or that I have brain cancer, or kidney failure, and so on. All of these things are ridiculous for a 22-year-old to worry about all of the time and when I’m not worried about them I think it’s ridiculous, too. Unfortunately, this has been something I’ve endured ever since I could remember, so I’ve found ways to cope with it. That being said, a global health crisis was not very kind to this part of me. I’m not sure if it was solely the pandemic that was the cause of my heightened health anxiety – it also would seem appropriate that graduating school, moving to a new town, starting a career, buying a house and car would all be contributing factors. Moreover, due to the pandemic – none of these things happened in the way I had planned or imagined. As a result, the period between March and June was the worst I’ve ever felt in my life. I remember one week in particular – it was in April – when I believed that I had a blood clot in my leg. I absolutely could not convince myself otherwise and it was all I could think about, non-stop. Its presence felt so real – so much so that I would spend hours every day searching up blood clots, and I was too afraid to sleep because I was worried that if I didn’t pay attention to my leg then I wouldn’t wake up (I know that doesn’t make sense, and it didn’t at the time either). Then, about a week after this started – I woke up to sharp chest pains. Nobody on this planet, doctor or otherwise, could have convinced me that I wasn’t going to die that morning. For the next two weeks I couldn’t eat or sleep comfortably without these pains. So yay, it was nice that I didn’t die, but I figured maybe I should try and seek help for the pains. I finally had a call with my doctor and turns out, I gave myself stomach ulcers! How fucked up is that, right? I was so worried about a fake blood clot that I gave myself a real, painful stomach problem. My psychology is a ruthless bitch.
I figured that once I started work in May that I’d begin to feel at ease and my health anxiety would lessen. I was right – it kinda did, at first. Then in June, when I started on a new project that I wasn’t very confident about, it all came back and worse. For a few weeks, I began having intrusive, disgusting thoughts and feelings all day – whether I was busy or not. All I could think about (and what began to feel real) was that my brain was leaking out of my head, or that my organs were rotting, or that slugs were crawling through my veins, or that worms were filling my lungs & stomach. I’ve always known – then and now – that none of these things happen in real life, to anyone. That made it even worse. I knew that what was bothering me could not be happening, but it didn’t make sense that I was feeling these actual sensations in my body. There was absolutely nothing I could do to stop thinking and feeling these things – I would wake up in the morning knowing that I had to endure a full day of repulsive, disgusting and revolting sensations. I have never felt so betrayed by myself like that before. In the apartment I’d pace back and forth and talk to myself so that I could try and listen to my own voice rather than what I was thinking or physically feeling – kind of like how Sméagol had his inner dialogue with Gollum in Lord of the Rings. As soon as I’d get home from work every night, I’d put on Oceans 13 and have it repeat 3-4 times because it felt like the only way I could induce some sense of normalcy. Whenever I was alone in my office I would try and read research papers but I wouldn’t be able to focus and so I’d write messages on sticky notes for myself instead, which I’d leave on the walls for myself to read when I needed to. They’d say things like “you are healthy” and “you are not dying”. These few weeks were truly a non-stop hell that I have never experienced anything similar to, and hope to never experience again.
Until today, I never spoke about this experience. I figured that if anyone knew what kind of thing was happening in my head then I’d lose my job and that my friends & family would develop perceptions of me that were unrecoverable. I was convinced that I was losing my mind – so why would anyone else believe otherwise? Since then, I’ve sought out help through an online help centre – and what I know now is that intrusive thoughts are a symptom of extreme anxiety & stress (as well as OCD in others). Moreover, they are common. What a relief. I am happy to say that since June, I haven’t endured intrusive thoughts since I learned how to cope with them. I am also feeling stronger than ever – if I could get through all that then I’m not worried about how I’ll handle anything that comes my way, ever again. I suppose that this experience could be an example of how unchecked and extreme stress can manifest itself is such an uncomfortable and unexpected way.
As for the rest of 22, things have turned around quite a bit. Over the past year I’ve lost 60 pounds, I’ve learned how to run, and I’ve found my place at this little gold mine. Life is starting to feel normal again – that is, as normal as life during a pandemic can be. For the upcoming year my main priorities would be to continue progressing in my role at work, as well as to make this new little town more home-like. I can be confident that throughout this year I have grown in ways that leave me more prepared for any obstacle that lies ahead, and even more so when it comes to being better-equipped to handle obstacles that have been present for my entire life. I guess that’s what getting older is all about, isn’t it?
(November 2nd, 2020)
astronomine 