The joys (and blues) of graduation

Thoughts | Esther Choi

“The scary news is, you’re on your own now. The cool news is, you’re on your own now.” (as Taylor Swift said at NYU’s 2022 Commencement)

Ever since the winter semester ended, I’ve been in denial. I felt like I was just on an extended reading week, just another summer break. It still feels like by the time the leaves start browning and the air gets chillier, I’ll be on my merry way to campus, wearing my black backpack that’s survived my years of high school and university, Starbucks in hand. Except this time, campus is no longer a place I can call mine. I’m graduating. 

This confusing and tumultuous year has been filled with grief, regret, sorrow, loneliness, hopelessness, hope, pessimism, and ultimately mourning. I mourn the year we lost to COVID-19, I mourn the clubs I didn’t join, the friends I lost touch with, the outings I said no to, the days I rotted in bed, and the nights I stayed in. I mourn the old Esther who wasn’t riddled with constant anxiety, the Esther who could live in the present. I’m now 22 and constantly in fear of the future. Everything’s so uncertain, so blurry. Nothing’s defined and stable and I’m terrified. It’s amazing how UofT is full of international students and I get to call these people from across the world my friends, who have lived completely different lives than me but together, we get to experience the monster that UofT is. But with that being said, I’m so heartbroken that once convocation season ends, and we all have to fly back home, I am forced to say goodbye to friendships indefinitely because when would I be able to visit Spain or Vietnam? There are times when I wish I could go back to the beginning of the year and cherish our time more together, to recognize that our time together has an expiration date. But unfortunately, we just have to accept the scary fact that time is constantly passing and it doesn’t wait for anyone. 

God, the real world. All year, whenever anyone asked me how I felt about graduating, I repeatedly confessed my fear of the real world. A world where my identity as a student for the past 20 years or so is stripped away, leaving me bare and naked. A world where I no longer receive academic validation, a world where relationships are only maintained through actual effort and commitment. I’m already missing study dates at the library, grabbing coffee with friends, and texting “Where are you sitting?”. For the first time ever, everyone is truly on their own journey on their own time. Some people get married, some continue more school, and some start working full-time at their adult jobs right away. This makes it so easy to compare yourself to others, wondering how that girl scored a well-paying job right out of graduation or how that guy is able to afford a Europe summer tour. For the past two months after the semester ended, I’ve been feeling so useless. As an English major, there aren’t too many career paths to consider. Most go into law or teaching, but for me, my dream has always been to work in the publishing industry, which is a pretty hard industry to break into on your own. In the past year, I’ve been stressed out of my mind, losing hair, trying to figure out how to land an entry-level job in publishing–even considering doing more school but not wanting to do grad school. During the winter break when a lot of people were applying for jobs for the summer, I tried my best. I applied to the ones I was actually interested in rather than mass applying for ones I wouldn’t be satisfied with. I didn’t get a single offer. Instead, I got one rejection email from Simon & Schuster telling me that I didn’t make it to the interview stage. I was gutted. I felt like such a failure. Looking back now, I laugh at myself because it was literally one rejection and I felt like giving up already. Oh, dear. 

Throughout the second semester, I had so much anxiety. I felt like no matter what I was doing, I wasn’t doing enough. I was even verbally told that I wasn’t doing enough. Not only did I feel like I was a failure, but I felt like a burden to my parents. As a 1.5. generation daughter, I beat myself up over picking a major like English, for being selfish and picking something I enjoyed doing, rather than thinking about financial possibilities. I felt so much guilt that my parents let me come live in Toronto to pay such expensive downtown rent only to end up jobless. I had so many nights where I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The uncertainty was strangling me, stealing all the oxygen in my lungs. I felt so, so small. So insignificant, so fragile that I was afraid I was losing myself. I felt like a shell of a person. I kept a lot of these feelings to myself because I was embarrassed. It seemed like everyone had something set in place, either grad school or a job lined up from months ago. Why did it feel like I was the only one struggling? 

The thing about university is that nothing is easy. For the first time in your life, you are forced to exercise your autonomy and practice asserting agency in your decisions and relationships. No one is forcing you to get up at 8 am the morning or eat lunch or exercise or join extracurriculars. It’s up to you. And you know what, everyone struggles with it. Some more than others, but I’m here to tell you that no one wants to admit it. But we are all being humbled together, learning together. That’s what university is about—being uncomfortable, scared, and growing for the better. You are simultaneously developing and regressing. All of a sudden you miss your childhood bed. You miss your parents and crave your favourite soup, and long for naps, dreaming of paradise, away from reality.

I just want to say that it gets better. A little easier. As I walked the stage in June, I felt a twang of sadness. This chapter of my life had finally closed. I remembered sitting in Convocation Hall as a first year, in my ANT100 class with 1000 other confused students. It was truly a full-circle moment, the first time I had actually felt the progression of time and recognized that here I was, four years older and maybe a bit wiser. 

For the months of April and May, I job-hunted like crazy. I wrote endless cover letters, fixed my resume a thousand times, and had a few coffee chats. I checked off all the boxes of what is expected of you in this non-identifiable period where you’re not a student but you’re not really an adult either. It’s so confusing when you hear people simultaneously tell you “Oh, you’re so young, you got so much time to figure things out” but also “So, what are you gonna do now that you’re done school?” But I’m here to tell you that you will be alright. Genuinely. Take this time to travel, try new hobbies, sleep a LOT, talk to working professionals in all kinds of fields, and read new books. For the first time ever, I went on aimless long walks in my neighbourhood. I watched the movies that have been sitting on my watchlist for years. For the first time, I didn’t feel guilty about spending my time the way I wanted to. During the school semesters, I felt like I was always stressfully resting or I felt guilty about not doing school work. Although I job-hunted, I allowed myself to simply rest. To waste time. And I had never been happier. During university, we got a taste of freedom, a chance to exercise some free will. But post-graduation life is truly the first time when all you have is freedom. Enjoy it, cherish it. Some day, work or family may consume your life, so this may be the only chance where your life is yours. Claim it. 

Many rejections later, I’m about to start my big girl job in a big city and I’ve never been more excited.

Goodbye UofT, you’ve been so good to me. I will miss and cherish you for giving me the space to fail, learn, and grow up.