Respice (at the) Finem: Unveiling My Transformative Cambridge Experience

*This retrospection was inspired by a remark from a punter who claimed that Cambridge students are not inclined to reveal their gloomy faces to others. I would love to challenge such a notion. Therefore, instead of creating an article providing generic tips on how to survive Cambridge, I delved into my transformative experience this year and will share the underlying, personal truths I’ve discovered. (But as I am no longer a student, it seems there might be some truth to what the punter said.)

Reflecting on my academic year at Cambridge, I think I struggled tremendously with the motto of Homerton College, "Respice finem," which means "Look to the end." It had been a tough journey where I often found myself lost, struggling to identify where the "end" was. Whenever I tried to glimpse ahead, all I saw were seemingly insurmountable walls.

To be honest, studying at Cambridge brought me a strong sense of frustration. I remember a speech early in the first term that introduced me to the term "imposter syndrome." While the speaker aimed to reassure us that none of us were imposters, I became plagued by self-doubt and have wrestled with imposter syndrome ever since.?

I constantly questioned how I managed to earn a place at this prestigious institution. There were times when I thought perhaps the applicant pool was too small, or if any administrative errors led to my fortunate acceptance. (I even doubted the program’s worth, because, if someone like me could get in, then how good could it be?) I would imagine that if other talented and hardworking people I knew applied, they would easily get accepted. It wasn't me being pseudo-humble but, an awareness of my own limitations. But you know what they say, “Fake it until you make it,” so I put on a confident facade and often swung between conflicting mixed emotions like “I’m worthless, I can’t do it” and “Hey I’m here at the freaking University of Cambridge, I’m dope.” (The thought occurred to me especially when I was strolling through the college paths surrounded by tree leaves, flowers, sunshine, and a gentle breeze.)

After facing numerous setbacks, I finally managed to submit my thesis. And soon after returning to Taiwan, I received the result - a Distinction, representing the exceptional performance of an academic work. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I could achieve such an outcome, but even with this achievement, I couldn't help but question, “How I pulled it off?”

Writing this piece has been a real challenge. I had this inner pressure that I should post something concise, dazzling, grateful, joyful, and proud on social media. Yet I feel like expressing some more. Seeking a way to convey the ineffable experiences that went beyond, I flipped through past photos, notes, messages, and posts on my Finsta account - a confessional outlet where I poured out my true feelings. I stumbled upon all those gloomy posts from 2018/19, consisting of black backgrounds with dark-grey words. Suffocating. But reading my own words reminded me of how much effort I had actually put into my studies back then.

A typical day of mine would be like this:

I would start my day with a not-so-tasty latte from the Buttery and headed to the college library. I made it a rule to read three (or at least 50 pages of) journal articles each day besides the assigned readings. (By "read" here, I mean truly comprehending the arguments, making connections between references, paraphrasing quotes, and taking notes of useful academic terminologies and sentence structures.) I would spend the whole day in the library until past midnight and found myself the only person in the computer area, for I needed to work with two monitors and a printer for hardcopies. When I left, I'd nod to the Porter, forging a silent connection. And on my way back to my room, I would exchange voice messages with a friend studying in Scotland. We would share something that made us happy that day, as a way to keep ourselves sane. (Though as the thesis deadline was around the corner, my messages turned into me rambling about what I had learned that day, and my poor friend, in a different field, had to listen to me blabbering about my “brilliant discoveries” all the time.) If the weather permitted, the next stop would be the college gym - exercise helped maintain physical and mental well-being.?

But despite all my efforts, I still felt stressed and inferior most of the time. There were moments during video calls with my family and friends when I couldn't hold back my emotions and ended up crying, feeling overwhelmed and ready to give up. And there were mornings when I woke up, staring at the ceiling, annoyed by the fact that I needed to face an endless sea of text. There was a night filled with panic, leading me to write letters to my mentor who wrote my recommendation letter, seeking help and pouring out my bottomless knowledge anxiety.

Thankfully, my friends provided me with quite a few useful, and sometimes seemingly hilarious, tips along the way:

They told me to break down big goals into smaller tasks, set deadlines, and give myself some cheat days. (Looking back, I realize that's just common project management, something I learned a bit late, but fortunately I’m much more proficient in it now.) They suggested trying anti-anxiety OTC made with licorice root. (Still not sure if it actually worked, but I've always been a fan of licorice root tea, so why not?) They advised me to make my bed every morning before I left my room. It provided solace and a sense of order, even on days when everything else seemed chaotic. (I would fold my quilt into a neat “tofu” square, like I learned from military service.) Let alone these, the most beneficial support they gave me was those warm hugs.

And as I write this passage now, I still suspect the significance of these experiences, as they may appear easily manageable for any intelligent and hardworking individual. Yet, upon deeper contemplation, I’ve come to realize that everyone’s efforts are unique and directed in their own way. While there are many talented individuals, we all face limitations in time and energy to invest in our chosen paths. Instead of comparing myself to others or imagining what they could have achieved in my position, I am on my way of learning to appreciate and recognize the progress I have made in my own journey. It is crucial for me to love and value myself more, embracing the milestones I have reached, and releasing the futile, repeating questions of "how did I manage to…”

It is interesting to learn that, while “respice finem” indicates “look ahead,” the word “respice” itself can also mean “to look back, to look to the past.” My mind drifts back to a Mandarin essay I wrote on my college entrance exam. The assigned topic was "The Distant." Likening distant goals to the radiance of light, I wrote down something like, "The happiest moment is not standing under the light, but in the process of striving towards the brightness.” While I should “respice finem” as I embark on my journey, when I finally reach the metaphorical light, I hope I won’t forget to look back at the self who worked hard in the darkness, persisting towards their dreams and goals. In other words, “respice” at the “finem.”

All in all, I'm sincerely grateful for what this precious year brought me. It was a journey filled with challenges, self-doubt, and moments of despair, but it was also a journey of growth, resilience, and self-discovery. Through the support of friends, the lessons learned, and the small victories achieved, I have come to appreciate the value of my own efforts and the unique path I have walked. As I reflect on the path I have traveled, I am reminded that success is not solely measured by reaching the destination but by the growth and transformation that occurs along the way. May I always cherish the dedication and determination that guided me through the darkness. The light at the end of the tunnel may have been elusive at times, but it is the journey itself that has shaped me into the person I am today.