Being a Second Semester Senior

Screaming, crying, throwing up – ok, maybe not throwing up, but there have definitely been screams of frustration and tears shed…, and I suppose there is still time for that third emotional reaction. All that is to say, last week marked the beginning of my final semester. Now, there are just a few more months, a few more classes, and a few more assignments separating me from what will potentially (likely) be the end of what has felt like a very long, exhausting academic career.

Terrified is an understatement. The fall semester was an amalgamation of many things: the lingering post-Paris depression, the ever-present (self-inflicted) pressure to maintain academic success during the most demanding semester to date, and the onset of something new – the revelation that I am moments away from a drastic period of transformation.

I have mixed feelings about it being my last semester. Since pandemic-related restrictions and protocols have dictated most of my college years, I haven’t had time to experience everything I was promised – the fantasy that college will be “the best four years of your life”. Regardless, I am excited and somewhat impatient to move on. I never anticipated college being the best period of my life, and now that I’m close to the finish line, I sincerely hope there are bigger and brighter things in my future. Essentially, I have one foot out the door, ready and eager to get on with my life. That other foot is firmly rooted in the incessant need for academic validation and paralyzed by the trepidation that accompanies uncertainty.

Truthfully, and perhaps naively, I feel a bit blindsided. Everything about my academic career, and by extension my life, has followed a natural progression with seamless transitions from elementary school to middle school, then high school, with slightly more turbulence as I moved on to college. Although stressful, there was a lot of hand-holding, and most of my friends were on the same path, albeit with different destinations in mind as we headed into college.

Being a senior in college is dissimilar to my senior year of high school. Even within my very (very) small social circle, everyone is in a different place regarding post-grad ambitions and current clarity on what post-grad life will be. Really, the only common denominators are stress and mild to severe panic. There’s the obvious stress of applying to grad school, the more nuanced stress of having a job lined up but realizing that you are that much closer to having to be a “real” adult, and in my case, the stress of simply not knowing what happens next.

As an underclassman, I remember asking seniors about graduation, thinking it was a safe topic of conversation, and being confused by their reluctance. I couldn’t understand it at the time, but now I can fully appreciate the frustration of being asked what your plans are when you yourself can only guess. Sometimes the external pressure is more discrete, and in my opinion, usually in the form of LinkedIn. There, friends, classmates, and strangers announce to the world that they have a job and have successfully completed the first step to figuring out their life. I’ve come to view LinkedIn as a breeding ground for comparison and self-doubt. Despite what’s posted on LinkedIn, the truth is that no one I’ve talked to is certain that they are making the right choice (even if they already have a job lined up). Although in a few years, we may all learn that it was inconsequential, right now, every decision feels monumental.

There are days when I feel incredibly self-assured. Logically, I know that I’m not interested in the jobs other people are acquiring, nor do I want to further my education immediately after undergrad. I know that, come June, I will be incredibly content, and the likeliness of harboring any jealousy toward others is slim. There’s immense comfort in that. However, as is the nature of anxiety and my overall personality, it is momentary comfort. I can be fine one moment, then seconds later be calling my mom in a panic because somehow I've convinced myself I will be unemployed and lonely forever. By the way, my very supportive and patient mother says I will be fine – we will have to wait and see.

In truth, I don’t have a goal with this post. This is simply a glimpse into the thoughts that have been wreaking havoc and an honest portrayal of my fears. For those experiencing the same thing, I don’t have any advice, and it would be disingenuous of me to offer reassurance that “it will be ok, you’ll figure it out,” when I have literally been shrugging off those exact words from everyone who has uttered them in the past few months. Aside from that, I’ve had several conversations with people who tell me I give off the impression of having my life together – a huge compliment, but one that is not true. I have spent all of college hunched over textbooks, staring at computer screens, crying over homework, and caring far too much about anything with a grade attached. So far, that has all amounted to me not having a job lined up, not knowing where I’m going to live after graduation, and, more plainly stated, not having my life figured out.

That said, while I will likely continue to panic about the future, I have decided to make a more conscious effort to enjoy my last semester. I’ve been so hyper-focused on school over the past three-and-a-half years that I’ve missed out on some of that quintessential “college experience” and have very few memories that don’t involve some level of stress. I’ve come to the semi-conclusion that I have my entire adult life left to stress over jobs but only a few more months of living with some of my closest friends and being free of the responsibilities of adulting. I hope when I write the inevitable "I'm a College Graduate" blog post, I can reflect on my last semester with a smile and a sense of accomplishment.