We’re two weeks into the start of the fall semester, the university is buzzing with vitality, everyone in my classes dresses like they fell out of my Instagram feed, and I’m filled with existential dread.
I don’t feel ready to be a person who moves through the world with a bachelor’s degree. Those people have plants that are living instead of dead and never leave their calendar open on the wrong month, two skills I have yet to master in my twenty years of life.
When I was sixteen, all I wanted was to be in college. I wanted to free myself from being the slightly awkward, very nerdy, poorly dressed person and be made anew. I thought I would close out my undergrad experience having had at least two boyfriends (felt like a good number), a cover-to-cover photo album chronicling my escapades, and a clear path forward. Now, I have a star written in my planner labeled “Graduation Day!” as a reminder that my time to experience all of those milestones is dwindling rapidly. It’s finally become real. It’s almost over.
I recall the excitement of moving into a tiny new room and slapping posters on the walls that perfectly matched my bedspread, backpack, stationery, trash can, and travel cutlery set (there’s nothing quite like freshman-year color palettes!). However, that giddiness has since worn off. The pillowcases got scratchy, my backpack isn’t as bright as it was, and I ran out of stationery. Now I have to think about boxing up all of the remnants, without any idea of where they’ll be unpacked.
I’ve spent the last summer before I graduate ruminating on what the future holds, and all the expectations I didn’t live up to. Did I work hard enough? Will I make enough money to live? Am I going to be happy after graduation?
Fear and anxiety about my future began to rule my present life. As students (especially English majors like me!), we are learners seeking clarity about the different subjects that make up the industries and communities central to our lives. Not having clarity about myself and what I should do for the rest of my life means that somehow, my education wasn’t enough to uncover the truth about the one topic I’m supposed to have mastered: me.
The summer was a struggle. Now into the semester, it’s still a struggle. I’ve had to come to terms with the difficult truth that my college experience hasn’t been what sixteen-year-old Olivia pictured. Letting that realization fester did nothing but feed my fears, but since the year has begun, this fear has begun to quiet itself.
It’s true that the picture I thought I’d have of my college career doesn’t exist, and when I think too hard about that it becomes unnerving. However, I’m walking away from university with so many other pictures that have enriched my life, even if they are invisible to the world. I moved away from home for the first time. I met some of the most brilliant, incredible women who I call friends. I worked exciting jobs, read wonderful things, and became a better human.
It’s okay to be scared; terrified, even. But holding onto that terror did me no favors. My picture of a confident, capable woman who knew what life had in store isn’t a part of my college journey. I’m still slightly awkward, somehow even more nerdy, and much better dressed, but at my core, I’m the same as I was before college, and I’ll be the same once I graduate. Replacing my thoughts of uncertainty with the little joys of my life has helped me climb out of that pit of fear and unworthiness, even when I’m living a life I never pictured. It helps me smile in the face of my discomfort and insecurity, and have autonomy over the college experience that I have chosen.
I reached out to one of my lovely college friends about my feelings while writing this article, and she pointed me toward the wisdom of another brilliant woman, Carrie Fisher.
If I heard her thoughts on fear months ago, I might not have experienced so much anxiety and dread on my journey to accepting my future. I hope Carrie’s words can keep you from struggling like I have:
“Stay afraid, but do it anyway.”