How I Was Accepted to the MA Program of My Dreams: The Power of Visualization

I had just changed my major to art history at the end of my junior year in college. It had been my minor for the two years I had been a student at this university, so it wasn’t a drastic change that would have me waiting another year or two in order to graduate. I was excited thinking that I had finally found the subject that I was passionate about, one that I could see myself doing for years to come as a professor. But when it was time to start applying to master’s programs that fall, I panicked. Literally.

The panic attacks I had suffered in high school were slowly creeping back as I began scrolling through endless lists of “best MA programs for art history” and doubting every last bit of myself. But luckily I wasn’t going through the process of grad school applications alone. My best friend Kassi was at my side making spreadsheets of all the programs we should look into; we met with professors together to ask for letters of recommendation and their thoughts on the programs we were interested in; and she was the support I needed when I felt anxiety flood my body at the thought of writing a personal statement. If it wasn’t for her guidance and support, I don’t think I would have ever gone through with submitting my 7 applications.

Once I submitted all 7 at the end of December 2015, I had a ball take up rent in my esophagus. Edgy and nervous at the thought of some of the best professors in my field reading my writing, I tried to think positively to calm myself down. Kassi had made a tumblr page as a sort of vision board for what we wanted our grad school experience to be; it was a marvelous activity to distract myself from said throat-ball. Spiraling down into the tumblr rabbit hole, I found GIFs, stills, photographs, and screenshots that all embodied what I wanted my grad experience to be: over-the-top. If I was going to study in London—a far-fetched dream that seemed so ridiculous in my low self-esteem mind—I was going to gather images that I loved because they were everything I thought I wasn’t: intelligent, sexy, daring, and very femme fatale. GIFs of old Hollywood women applying lipstick; feminine legs strutting down the street in a short skirt holding a handgun; Marilyn Monroe twirling and flirting; photos of popular London hangouts; minimalist design inspo; wine and champagne occupying bookshelves; and Bridget Bardot brushing her teeth. It was all so frivolous, but it excited me—the fickleness of it all. Or at least that’s what it seemed.

Over the next several weeks bleeding into months, I looked at mine and Kassi’s tumblr page daily. Seeing the dancing images, polished photos, and dreamy London skylines sent me into a fantasy of “wow, if only.” I pictured myself applying red lipstick in front of a vanity mirror in my London flat, pulling on a long, black coat, boots, and strutting off to class ready to discuss Derrida. I would gallivant through the city with Kassi as we sipped on champagne, danced with foreign men, and watched old films on the Criterion collection after reading articles for class. It seemed so whimsical, fanciful, and impossible.

On top of looking and dreaming about these images, I went about daily life as if these images were my reality. The ridiculousness of it seemed so ridiculous that, why not, it could be real. It could be reality for me while I finished my senior year in college, aceing nearly every test, essay, and quiz. I went to office hours for fun, because, why not? I wore black heels and tights to class with red lipstick because, why not? If these images excited me so much to try and don a more femme fatale style, I sure as hell could start now. I began to smile more. My anxiety began to dwindle with each day, and I wouldn’t wake up in the middle of the night feeling like I couldn’t breathe. Kassi and I attended every lecture possible within the college of arts and sciences to prepare ourselves for the “grad experience”, taking notes and chatting with the professors who knew us as regulars. Soon the fanciful was becoming reality, and it wasn’t as ridiculous as I had thought.

I had received my first “yes” from one of the schools I applied to. I was ecstatic. ME? I thought. They chose ME? Some anxious nobody from California who pretends to be smart? I was glad they didn’t think I was pretending. Soon more “yes” replies came in. Then my number #1 school said “yes.” I closed my laptop after seeing the “accepted” banner next to my application, trying to contain the purest happiness I’d ever felt from leaking out of my mouth and onto the floor. I had been sitting in my college’s writing center where I was a tutor, and quickly marched out to go wait for Kassi who had just parked outside. My other good friend Miles was with me, congratulating me as his dad (who was visiting) pulled up in front of the college. Miles told him the good news, and he applauded me for my hard work. Kassi then walked up, and I spat the news out. We hugged and spun around on the grass, just like in the GIFs I had looked at every day for months.

Despite my self-doubt, low self-esteem, anxiety about my future and my intellectual capabilities, I was accepted to the grad program of my dreams. My anxiety during applications was near debilitating, and I was popping prescribed clonozepam nearly every 4 hours to keep my heart from beating out of control. But I kept looking at that tumblr page. Every day. Those images seemed so ridiculous because they were my dreams and hopes that I never thought would ever come to fruition. It just didn’t hurt to fall into the fantasy and pretend like it was my reality; anything was better than trying to subdue a panic attack in my dorm room. I was on such a high during this period of my life, waiting for those grad apps to turn out results as I finished off senior year as if nothing really mattered, in a good way.

Since then I’ve tried to put myself back into that mindset of care-free dreaminess in trying to achieve my goals; everything seemed to fall perfectly into place when I let go. It’s harder now that I’m not in school to keep myself motivated as I take the next steps in my career, but I always remind myself of the power my thoughts and that vision board had in helping me know what I desired. I encourage anyone reading this to find images, photos, or GIFs that help you see your goals and make a vision board. It can be digital or physical, but look at those images every day. Freely associate those images with what you want. And work toward it. I didn’t sit there and look at those images; I looked at them, thought about what they meant to me, and put that into action.

Our thoughts hold far more power than we realize; visualize what you want, and go for it. The only person holding you back is you.