I recently tackled one of the more
unsettling experiences of my young-adult life. That’s right. I
faced my mid-college crisis. We
all have one at some point. I
remember back in the day... a whole three years ago... I was a wide-eyed freshman, blissfully unaware of the sense of responsibility
and looming awareness of adulthood waiting to snatch me with their snarly claws
just around the corner of Junior year.
For those who have
experienced said mid-college crisis, you know the cracks in the once
indestructible façade of confidence.
You know the dimming glimmer of telling people you are a _______ major and wondering if you even
like the way it sounds when you say it out loud. For those who have not experienced the crisis… you
will. Sooner or later. Allow me to soften the blow
a bit by having you take an exclusive sneak peak into my glass case of
emotion. Now, the mind of a third
year student in this tumultuous stage is like a pinball machine, darting from
one place to another, dashing against obstacles, and exploding with sudden
bursts of light and bell sounds.
Bear with me. The cliff
notes version went a bit like this:
I am a Junior in
college. I am a JUNIOR in
COLLEGE. I am 21 years old. I remember when 21 used to seem so old. It’s not old right? Nah, I’m super young. Oh my gosh. I was a junior in high school 4 years ago. Yeah, I’m way old. That was four years ago?! Ok. Composure.
I just thought I
would have accomplished so much more by now. Done so much more.
Seen things. Known
things. Do I know anything? Anything at all? Quick! Think of something you know.
My brain is an
empty vat of nothing.
I have so much
that I want to do and so little time to do it. Only a year and a half left. Life will officially end on graduation day. So long to my joy. Buhbye to my youth. I will have to leave behind my scholastic comfort zone in
order to get a real job. A
job. Not a summer job or a
part-time job or I’ll house/pet/baby sit and call it a job-job. A real-life, grown-up job.
How can I have a
profession? I have no skills. Can I do anything? I can whistle. That won’t help with anything. I could become a YouTube
sensation? I won’t completely rule
that out.
I don’t even have
an internship. That’s a big
buzzword, isn’t it? The almighty internship. Dang it. I should probably start applying for some internships.
Wait. Is this even what I want to do with my
life? I always thought it was, but
now I am not so sure. I feel
like I lack passion. I should be passionate about my career.
I should be barely able to sleep because I am so excited to hop out of
my bed and skip merrily to work the next day, stopping in the middle of the
street to raise my fists to the heavens in ecstatic triumph, “Hello, world! I
love my job!”
That’s it. I am running away to Disney World.
Man, when I get a
job, that means I will have to actually make a living to sustain myself. I am going to have to do without a lot
of things. As in, a lot of nice
things. As in, I might be homeless.
Can I balance a checkbook? Can I live off of lean cuisines the rest of my existence?
Stop. (Hammer time.)
I can’t think of anything else that
could suit me more than my major.
I have really great friends and
family that support me with anything.
I have made amazing memories. And still have the rest of my life to
make more!
I am my own biggest critic.
One day at a time.
Breathe.
Breathe again.
One more time for good measure.
Do not fret, my collegiate
peers. We can do
anything—including survive the stage of panic that is the inevitable
mid-college crisis.
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