Embracing the Post Grad Blues

*pictured is myself with my advisor, Christina Root, and Writing Center boss, Tim Mackin at Saint Michael's College December 2018 small graduation gathering*

         

     A month before the start of my senior year of college, it came to my attention that I only needed six more credits to graduate to complete my English major and Music minor. (for context, this is the equivalent of one and a half classes) (I unknowingly took far too many credits in my first couple years of college.)

              I had two weeks before the semester started to decide whether I wanted to add another major or minor and stay a now “extra” semester.

I had no idea what I wanted to add. I mean, I had the option upgrade my music minor to a major (I only needed one more course to do this- however, it was Music Theory III: Music Composition. I barely hung onto a B in Music Theory I and II. At the time, I convinced myself there was no way I would survive III.) I also could have easily added a Philosophy, History, or even a Psychology minor.

              I chose none of these options.

When the time finally came to confirm graduation dates, I got my laptop out and selected “December 2018.” At the bottom of the page, I tentatively hit “submit.”

I ripped my hands off the keyboard. My heart raced.

Was this a mistake?

This was saving me thousands of dollars, right?

The page refreshed and the words “confirmed ‘December 2018’ graduation” flashed on my screen.

Was I no longer considered class of 2019?

I waved the thought away and closed my laptop; I knew there was no going back now.

              It was surreal knowing I would be leaving campus earlier than most of my classmates. I entered uncharted territory as I drove myself up to Saint Mike’s for the first and, perhaps last, time. (It was my first (and last) semester ever having a car on campus.)

Ironically, my last semester at Saint Michael’s was my best semester, grade, and mental health wise. I got the closest ever to a 4.0- I received a 3.9! It was also the first time I did not attempt running for the women’s cross-country team. Instead, I coached middle school cross-country at Mater Christi. Although I dearly missed competing, I thoroughly enjoyed coaching. Those middle school runners stole my whole heart.

              During the last month of my last semester, I worked tirelessly on writing my thesis, job searching, and apartment hunting.

              Out of the three, the only thing I was sure about out was writing my thesis; I wrote about the power of language and performativity in The Handmaid’s Tale and The Underground Railroad. On the flipside, I had no idea what I wanted to do for work or where I wanted to live. All I knew was that I did not want to go back home yet. I did not want to be away from all my friends or miss any senior year festivities.

              While I wanted to stay connected with my college friends, I also felt an overwhelming pressure to be entirely self-sufficient and to do it as quickly as possible. I was terrified of “falling behind” in the race that I had always imagined adulthood to be.

               I compromised these opposing feelings by signing a six-month lease in downtown Burlington and working across the street from Saint Michael’s College at a private school for students with a variety of disabilities. I wanted to prove myself that I could “do it all.”

I was working, living on my own, working out, playing in the Saint Mike’s concert band, and still spending a significant amount of time with friends who lived on campus. I was doing it all!

Perfect, right?

Not exactly.

              I was stretched incredibly thin. I was physically, emotionally, and mentally drained from trying to do everything and please everyone.

I also felt extremely lonely.

I did not feel like I fit in anywhere. I did not fit in with my college friends because I was no longer in college. I did not fit in with my coworkers because I still felt like a college kid. I did not fit in with any of my roommates because I was a brand-new adult. (My roommates were a few years older than me and had fancy office jobs where they wore slacks and dress shoes and blouses. Meanwhile, at my job, I dealt with poop on a weekly basis and wore t-shirts and sneakers and jeans.)

              I missed college. I started missing homework just a couple months after graduating. I missed being told what to do. I missed always having something to do and something tangible to work towards. As a student, I was always working towards something. I was working towards becoming an adult and getting a job. I was working on learning and absorbing and writing and getting graded for it. My self-worth, like many students, was fostered in academia.

              We go to school between twelve and twenty years.

Who are we when it is over?

I continue to struggle knowing who I am without academia. I am still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. These days especially, life feels motionless. There is nothing necessarily to work for or towards like there was when I was in school. I now must come up with my own homework. I now must be my own catalyst. No teacher or professor is going to deduct points for me not participating anymore.

In this motionless time, where I am my own professor, my own catalyst, I have come up with some things I know I want to do and continue to do. After all, I must continue to participate in life.

I know I want to go back to school. I know I want to continue writing. I know I want to continue running and working out and travelling. I know I want to continue being a good friend, daughter, sister, cousin, and niece. I know I want to make a difference in the world.

I know I want to be happy.

When the class of 2020 graduated this past May, I could not help but feel for them. Although I experienced vastly different circumstances in graduating essentially “by myself,” I understand the grief of missing out on the second semester of senior year and the festivities that come with it. Although I did physically attend my class' graduation in May, I understand what mourning a senior year feels like and I understand how lonely it can be to exist in a liminal space- not quite fitting in anywhere.

*pictured is myself after Saint Michael's College May 2019 Commencement*

In the end, it is never easy to figure out what you want to do life- even without a pandemic going on. So please, be kind to yourself. Adulthood is not a race. Success does not have to be immediate. (It often is not immediate.) Everyone is on their own timeline. It is okay to mourn college or high school or even, more simply, existence before COVID-19. You are not defined by your job, major, or unemployment.

No one has it all figured out.

Be who you want to be.

Now is your chance.

Stay safe out there. Please wear a mask.

With love,

Emily