The Speed of Light in a Room Built for Shadows
- 5 days ago
- 3 min read
By Saskia Karges
For decades, I lived with a secret I didn't even know I had. I grew up believing a lie that was fed to me by everyone around me: from the rigid structures of the German convent school I attended to the corporate ladders I climbed later in life. The lie was simple: I was unintelligent.
In that all-girls convent school, I was the outlier. I wasn't a "good" student. While I grasped complex concepts with instinctive ease, I struggled with the mindless "knowledge bulimia" of the system—binging on isolated data points for the sake of an exam, only to purge them from my memory the moment the ink on the paper had dried. I failed at math word problems because my brain was already looking for the "why" while the teacher was still explaining the "how." My directness was labeled as "cheeky," and my impatience with slow processes was dismissed as "defiance." I was a high-performance engine trying to drive on a road built for horse carriages. When the engine overheated from underutilization, I was told the engine was the defect.
The Mirror in the Room
The shift didn't happen in a library or through a test. It happened years later, in a high-stakes corporate environment. I was working in Marketing, feeling like my usual "too much" self, when a colleague from Supply Chain turned to me in a meeting and said: "I want to sit next to you; you’re the smartest person in the room." (Thank you, Todd. You have no idea how much that meant.)
I was stunned. I had spent my life hiding, "toning down" my frequency so I wouldn't offend the slow-moving gears of the world. I had developed a habit of organizing month-long projects into two-day tasks, only to be met with "behavioral feedback" because my efficiency exposed the lethargy of the system. In 2020, I finally sought a formal high-intelligence assessment in secret. The result wasn't just a number; it was an acquittal. I wasn't broken. I was simply operating on a different wavelength.
Unlearning the "Normal"
Reclaiming my identity meant unlearning the idea that I am "normal." The world tells women—especially those raised in environments where "good behavior" is the highest currency—that harmony is more important than brilliance. We are conditioned to manage the egos of others, even at the cost of our own potential.
I had to learn that my "arrogance" was often just the clarity of a mind that sees the solution while others are still deciphering the problem.
I had to stop apologizing for delivering 1,200% results while HR committees debated my "tone."
The Evolution of Self-Trust
Rebuilding self-trust is a work in progress. It was only in 2025 that I finally gave myself permission to use my full capacity for my own dreams, rather than just feeding a corporate machine that wanted me to stay in my lane.
Today, that energy has found its outlets. Whether through publishing books or writing on Medium, I am finally using my "too-muchness" to build my own legacy. I am no longer waiting for a system to tell me I’m "enough." I am too busy being more than enough.
A Message to the "Too Much" Woman
If you are sitting in a system—be it a job, a family, or a classroom—and you feel like you are failing because you don't fit the mold, consider this: The mold is too small.
If the world tells you that you are "too loud," "too fast," or "too difficult," it is often because your light is reflecting off their shadows. Stop seeking permission to be brilliant. You don't owe the world a slower version of yourself. You owe yourself the courage to finally use the strength you’ve been hiding since the days of that convent school.
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