Eight days ago, two months after originally planned, I handed in my Research Project (my dissertation). I left university for the final time, my MA almost in the grasping distance. No plans. No nothing. Just me and my dreams.But all I can think is: now what?
And then my head explodes.
Metaphoric, of course.
Because according to every single piece of fiction in the world, I should know what I want to do with my life. But I don't have a clue.
Well, this is a massive lie. I do know what I want to do, but it's a pipe dream. A pipe dream that I so badly want to be a reality because I love writing so much, but I know how much work it takes and how impossible it really is.
Fiction also tells me that this will come true, but my brain tells me to be realistic. To find a job that is stable and reliable which I already have. But I just want to do something that I love and searching for endless job websites I can't find this one thing.
I can't make up my mind. But I have to think of something because after five years of education it has to mean something. Right?
This was not the position that I imagined at 18. Feeling as lost as confused as ever. I thought I would have my life together. A dream job is grasping distance and to know how I wanted to fill it. Moving out of home definitely in the picture.
But that's not what I have. I'm at home. Writing in my bedroom at my parent's house on Christmas day. Feeling so incredibly lost.
Nobody predicted 2020. It has been a year and how this has upended so many lives, and I know that I am not the only person who feels like this. And pandemic or not, I am not going to be the only one who feels like this.
So right now, I feel lost, and I don't know what's next. I hate that we are taught that we come of age at 18 and that we must know everything because it's not true. At 23, I still have no clue.
So I'm just going to keep trying. Finding where I fit in the world. Finding out what's next. Finding out what I want to learn. Finding what I want to do now.
Even if it takes a while.