Here's a snapshot of how my typical mornings have been since the start of the new year: wake up around 11 (I'm lazy, I know), butt around for a while, make breakfast (maybe), butt around some more, study/get some work done (maybe), and then head to class around 2:30 or 3:00. My weekends start on Thursdays at 5:00pm and don't end until Mondays at 2:30pm. My school schedule is THE easiest I have ever had, and I'm not sure that's a good thing.
The Spring 2015 graduation schedule was released, and yes, I had been checking multiple times a day for at least two weeks leading up to it. I'll be crossing the stage at 1:30pm on Thursday, May 21st.
This all sounds great, right? I'm finally graduating! I'll finally have the incredibly expensive yet somehow valuable piece of paper that will signal to future employers that, yup, I have a Bachelor's degree. I'll finally have that coveted diploma and I'll be outta here.
But that's not the way it's unfolding in my head. Because I have SO much time on my hands (I've been stalling on actually implementing a real schedule in my life), I feel that I have more time and energy than most to fixate on the fact that I'm graduating and I have NO idea what comes next.
Part of me is elated, excited, and impatient for the day to come. For four years, I've worked pretty darn hard, and that symbolic moment of crossing the stage and receiving my diploma is something that is very important to me. It symbolizes the end of the first period of real independence in my life and my transition into adulthood. It stands for the responsibility I've taken over my life during the past four years, in the form of deciding what major to declare, of ensuring I fulfilled all of my requirements, and of pursuing educational opportunities that would enrich my undergraduate experience. It also symbolizes my parents' investment in ME and their belief that I was worth a ridiculous amount of money to be educated at a pretty decent institution. It stands for the end of a time filled with some of my best and worst memories with some of the best people I've ever met. It signifies stepping into the "real world" (if I don't do more school).
But the other part of me is terrified. Four years is a LONG time, but I feel like I just got comfortable, you know? I just got used to the routine of university life, of living on my own and of being a responsible human being. I'm sure many graduates know this feeling of not knowing who they are without school. I've spent most of my life equating my worth with my intelligence, so when school suddenly isn't in the picture, I'm not quite sure what to do. On that note, if I'm rejected from grad school, then the blow my self-esteem will receive is going to be pretty big. And it's not like I expect to be accepted or anything...I just see my value in being seen as smart? Even I get confused about that sometimes, but that's how I am. It's just scary; I've had pretty much everything in my life so far go my way, but I know there are zero guarantees from this point forward, and that's a scary realization when you know being accepted to grad school, or not, will have a fairly significant impact on your life (at least that's how I see it). It's not like getting into grad school is my only option, it's just the only plan I've made so far. It seems as though I haven't learned from the "don't put all your eggs in one basket" thing, because I did the same thing when applying to universities as I'm doing with grad school - only applying to one. I guess we'll see how this one turns out, hey?
The thing is, I know everything is going to be okay. I know I'll figure things out when push comes to shove. But isn't the thought of hanging in the balance kind of scary? I suppose everyone experiences this at one point or another. Part of the problem is that I have way too much time on my hands; I swear I'm making the decision of whether to intern or not soon! These little crises only sometimes happen, I promise.
I'll be fine, I'll be fine, I'll be fine.
Deep breaths.
Aaaand action!
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