“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end” -Semisonic
“Closing Time”, the quintessential anthem of graduations, proms, and other major life traditions. This song played at my middle school graduation, my senior prom, and a college graduation party, but these lyrics have never been truer than they are now, six months post-college graduation.
In the space between college and established career, a decade so turbulent it has it’s own moniker– “emerging adulthood”– I have found myself, alongside thousands of other twenty-somethings, completely adrift. At the end of the beginning of my life, and at the beginning of the middle, there is no road map, no Apple Maps, no established route. There is no leader to follow and no beaten path through the underbrush and I find myself, two thousand miles from home, completely lost.
I was one of the lucky ones– two months after gaining my diploma, I was offered my dream job in Colorado. I have no student debt and no roommates, and for all intents and purposes my situation is ideal, with the exception of the constant and crushing loneliness of the post-college slump. On the opposite side of the country from my family and friends, I find myself standing at the edge of a completely barren and pristine fresh start, with no idea where to go. In the past six months I have:
- Adopted a kitten
- Visited six major cities and four states
- Gotten two traffic violations
- Kissed four men
- Had meaningless sex
- Decorated my first apartment
- Met hundreds of new people
And here is what I have learned:
- I can do anything, go anywhere, and no one will stop me
- There is no safety net
- My “dream job” is not, in fact, my dream job
- I don’t like Colorado
- I don’t know what I want to become. And that’s okay.
I have made more of a mess of my life in the past six months than I have in the entirety of twenty two years, and from those mistakes, I have learned more than college ever taught me. My life is in chaos, and that is completely okay.
Cheers to a new day, a new horizon.