The weirdest moment of moving back home after college was the moment I unpacked my backpack. I mean, that thing had been filled to the absolute brim for the past three years. I stuffed it with everything from books and notebooks to blankets and mugs during finals to Frisbees in case the weather suddenly turned warm. One time I even put a loaf of bread in there so I could make toast in between classes. It must have weighed something like fifty pounds. People made fun of me for it.
And then, suddenly, it was over. I took the last book out of it, shook out the sand from beach trips into the trash, and hung my backpack in my closet. It seemed so flimsy, so void of life. It sagged on the hook, and, in that moment, all the adventures I’d had, all the difficult moments, all the tears, all the friendships I’d cherished, all seemed like a dream. It was surreal to be back home, all unpacked, with no semester to look forward to in the fall. It was so surreal that the fact that I’d graduated didn’t even hit me until September, when everyone else went back to school, but I stayed behind.
Entering post grad is like entering adolescence. Again. Be prepared for a lot of weirdness and feeling of being in limbo (possibly stress-induced breakouts). You thought you’d left the feeling that everyone is watching you all the time behind? You thought that you finally, finally had it all figured out? Sorry to burst your bubble. In my short, highly concentrated experience, nothing is about to go the way you thought it would. Also, you’ll never have it all figured out, and this is a good time to get used to that.
You’ll grow during this first year, and that means you’ll experience growing pains. They might come in the form of a dull ache or a slashing stab through your heart. You might end up in a place you didn’t think you’d be. You might feel restless and stuck. Let me encourage you—dig into the place you’re in. Community is hard to find literally anywhere, even if you move back to your hometown or stay in the area around your college. Do what you have to do to fight for it: join a club, start volunteering somewhere new, use those intentional-coffee-date skills that your alma mater has probably instilled in you. You will learn to recognize the relationships worth fighting for and the people who will fight for you.
Unless you are very lucky, most of your primary relationships will become long-distance. That really changes things. And it doesn’t have to be for the worse. Texting and messaging are good, but video chats are better. Letters are also good. To my fellow spontaneous extroverts, there’s nothing wrong with planning out certain times to talk. It doesn’t make your community any less special or organic. Your friends will always want to hear from you. Be extravagant with your love.
Listen to music made by people who get it. AJR gets it. They write and sing songs about the human condition—specifically about grappling with the human condition while you’re in your early 20s and have no idea what’s going on. They sing about breaking relationships, moving out, and grappling with who you want to be. If you’re not into mainstream artists and are looking for some happy rap to jam to, check out Peabod. He’s a young artist figuring out how to be an adult, deal with stereotypes surrounding millennials, and pursue his dream. And finally, Judah & the Lion, a self-described “folk hop” group, just released their newest album: Pep Talks. It’s all about growing up, reflecting, and quarter-life crises.
Taking occasional breaks from social media has been valuable for me. I am easily caught up in the comparison game, holding the accomplishments of others up to myself like clothes to try on. “Why doesn’t this fit me?” I ask, scowling at my own life. “Why haven’t I reached this milestone yet? Why can’t I get it together like them?” But I am enough, and where I am is good. Sometimes it takes unplugging a bit to remember that. That social media reset is an option for you, and I recommend that you take it once in a while.
You will not be stuck in transition forever. You will know when it is time to move. You will know when it is time to stay.
I have no idea if things are going to continue to be this way for the rest of adult life, but I have faith that it’s going to get better. The first year of anything is almost like a detox from the year before, an adjustment to the present. If you let it, your first year of post grad can be an actual detox: letting go of toxic relationships, letting go of toxic lies you hold about yourself, and letting go of toxic expectations. Whether or not you have a job or grad school program lined up, this time can be a release from all your plans. And that will probably turn out to be a really good thing.
And to those who are feeling scared and unsure, here is something for you. I wish I were in person to say these things to you, to put a hand on your shoulder and look into your eyes: you are doing a great job. Finding a job is terrifying. Stepping out in any capacity is terrifying. But here you are, further along than you were four years ago. You have come so far, over arid mountain ranges and through valleys that were lush but deep, through caves and tunnels that were musty and dank. You are stronger than you ever thought possible.
You will get to the place you need to be. You’ll become the person you want to be. The bonds you have forged with people you cherish are iron, not string. They will last, and they will carry you through many storms. You’re going to make a home. And don’t believe the lie that you’re the only one having a hard time. You’re not alone, and you never have been.
This is an open door. As you have walked through the mansion of your life, it has been waiting for you. And through it you can see something, something green and sweet and new. Something is growing out there. Go find out what it is.
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash