The stress of graduating without a plan has forced me to reevaluate what I really want
Last week, as part of my international development seminar, I had to write a 10-year plan. Despite not requiring any research, this was probably one of the most difficult times I’ve had starting an assignment.
I have always had a plan. Maybe it came from years of Girl Guides, where the motto was “Be Prepared.” Maybe up until now there has been a singular, logical path for me.
I expected to go to university, I had the grades to do it, and I went. I wanted to go on exchange. I saved up, I organized my classes in order to achieve a major and a minor, complete the exchange, and be done in four years. I have been fortunate to be able to realize a number of my dreams.
Now, I am at a loss. As I hit the halfway mark of my final semester of my undergraduate degree, for the first time, I am unsure of what comes next. I have loved my program and the freedom it allowed me over four years, but there is no clear route from here. For the first time, it feels as if my options aren’t guaranteed. I have applied to grad school, but I may not get in. The job fairs have felt less inspiring and more overwhelming. “You should be looking for a job that you are willing to stay at for three years,” I have been told. I have no idea what I want in three weeks, let alone in three years.
I have gone through numerous changes in the past 12 months. Things that I thought I could depend on have disappeared. I am no longer in contact with people that I thought would be a permanent fixture in my life.
This isn’t all necessarily for the worst — I have shifted to acting with a sense of urgency. I have met wonderful people in the past few months that have changed my worldview and opened my eyes. If you had told me last year I would be going on vacation to the “Deep South” next week, I wouldn’t have believed you. I have put myself out there and, for better or worse, this has let me grow exponentially.
Responses from grad programs roll out in March, which feels much farther away than it is. In the meantime, I feel trapped. Do I look for a permanent job that I may have to leave for school? Where will I be living? It is impossible to commit to anything past April.
I know that this feeling is temporary. Once I get responses from universities — positive or negative — I will be able to make firm decisions about the future. But for the next three weeks I (and I suspect many others like me) will be stuck in limbo.
This quarter-life crisis has been paralyzing. But it has also given me the rare opportunity, after being on a linear path, to analyze what I truly want from life. This is a work in progress, and I am still trying to figure things out. But I think I am closer to knowing now than I was before.
Photo by Alora Griffiths/The Ontarion