This is the question that everyone seems to ask you when a chapter of your life comes to a close. It’s a simple question; unsurprising, amiable, and seemingly nonintrusive. After all, something is always next – it’s part of the natural progression of life.
As I walked across the stage to collect my college diploma – or at least an empty leather folder meant to symbolically represent my bachelor’s degree – a million thoughts were jumbled inside my head.
“Wow I actually finished my honors thesis on time.”
“I wonder how I start paying off my student loans.”
“I better not trip and fall on this stupid gown.”
“I hope the restaurant has artichoke dip.”
However, amidst the glow of pride, energizing giddiness, and tangible sigh of relief, a lingering question lurked on the perimeter of my mind.
“What am I supposed to do now?”
I could barely begin to comprehend the enormity of that question. I knew people were going to ask me what my plan was – where my life was headed next and what my first step in getting there was going to be. Everyone would be questioning what the next chapter had in store for me. The problem was, I didn’t even know what kind of book I was writing, let alone how the next chapter was supposed to begin. When it came to plans, I had no freaking clue what I was doing…I’d spent the last three years in the pursuit of a music education degree that I wasn’t going to use.
Let’s backtrack for a second.
If you know me, you know that I tend to have a bit of an all-or-nothing mentality, and man did I give 100% of myself over to the college experience. I chased after grades like it was a full-time job, determined to graduate at the top of my class. I overloaded on credits every semester, stretched so thin between core curriculum and musical performances that sometimes I felt straight-up translucent.
I put hours into projects that only required minutes, and pulled all-nighters for papers that should have taken weeks. Equal parts procrastinator and perfectionist, I’m pretty sure there were a few days where, if you googled “long term effects of sleep deprivation,” you would find a picture of me wearing footie pajamas to the school library, sipping four shots of espresso on ice (yes, this is something I actually did). I danced on a couple tables, went midnight swimming in Spain, rode a mechanical bull, and learned that sometimes the best experiences are the ones you never planned to have in the first place. I was good at being a college student, in every sense of the word.
The problem with giving 100% of yourself to something is that you can lose sight of the bigger picture. I decided to pursue music education because people told me I would be an amazing music teacher. I loved working with kids, and I’d been performing since I could talk – music teacher seemed like the obvious choice, I suppose. I was too young and naïve to realize that just because something comes easily to you, does not mean it should be your career.
During college, I was so diligently focused on maintaining the ridiculously high standard I set for myself, that I failed to realize I did not want to be a teacher. In fact, it wasn’t until the second semester of my senior year that I finally took the time to reflect on how many of my interests I’d managed to neglect in the pursuit of such a specialized degree.
I missed my life before music school, when music was something I did out of love rather than necessity and responsibility. I missed my life before carefully constructed education standards and lesson plans, when I fully enjoyed all of the time I spent with children. Don’t get me wrong, I have the utmost respect and admiration for teachers – in fact, I think it is the single most undervalued occupation in the United States of America. Teaching, in some capacity, will forever be a part of my life and my identity.
My dreams just weren’t meant to be contained within the walls of a classroom.
By the time I realized I was on a career path that didn’t truly make me happy, I was a couple weeks away from graduation. That’s when the panic started to set in. Sure, I was good at being a music education student, but if I wasn’t going to use my degree, what was I going to do?
My original plan of taking a gap year before grad school was replaced with a need to find a job. Suddenly the months I spent developing my honors thesis seemed to morph into months of missed job applications. Sure, I was graduating with multiple honors, but I had a resume with nothing but classroom and music experience. Who in their right mind was going to hire me? In the blink of an eye, the value I had spent years cultivating seemed utterly worthless. Looking back on it now, it’s amazing how quick we are to tear ourselves down when we begin to feel defeated. It’s something of a self-fulfilling prophecy, really…but that’s a discussion for another time.
The night before my graduation ceremony, I was sitting on the living room floor of my college apartment decorating my graduation cap. Once again, I had over-committed myself by deciding that I, the music education major, would be creating a mixed media painting on the back of my cap and it was going to be pretty, no matter how many tries it took me.
As I sat there, squeezing glitter glue leaves onto a tree at 2:00am, I recognized that no matter what I ended up doing with my life in the coming years, I was going to be the type of employee who does not quit until the vision is realized. If I could teach myself how to watercolor in the middle of the night, I could sure as hell teach myself other things. My achievements to date were proof of that, and maybe employers would see that, too. The anxiety surrounding post-graduation life continued bubbling away, but for the first time I knew, somewhere deep down, that I was going to be just fine.
Fast forward a year to May of 2019, and it turns out I was right. I’m still not sure what I want to do with my life in the long-term, but I have a stable job at a well-known investment firm that pays the bills. I have access to extensive learning resources, and work with a team of truly fantastic individuals who are more than willing to help facilitate my learning. I go to work in a city that I love, and sip my free morning coffee with a view of the harbor.
I teach voice lessons to a handful of amazing kids, and use music to mentor children with disabilities. I coordinate arts outreach programs in my local community, and have slowly been able to accumulate a savings for an upcoming trip to Croatia. Between all of my different jobs (and a very gracious mother who allowed me to move back into her home), I should be free of student debt by the year 2020. I’m busy, exhausted, and often confused, but I’m loving every minute of it.
As children, we are told that we can be anything we want to be, and so we experience the world as a realm of infinite possibilities and curiosities – meant to be explored. We dream and we play and we experiment until we figure things out. It is only as we head towards adulthood that we begin to pigeonhole ourselves, developing a streamlined process for getting from point A to point B. However, my time as a teacher has taught me that learning, much like life, is never truly sequential. It’s a complex process with ups and downs, progress and setbacks. So, for the foreseeable future, I am choosing to tap into my inner-child and view the world for its unlimited potential. I’ll dream and play and experiment until I figure out exactly what “point B” is in this stage of my life, because I’m sure somewhere down the line points “C,” “D,” and “E” are waiting.
Yes, having no idea what the future has in store for me is scary. So are horror movies, but for some reason my friends keep forcing me to watch them. Being afraid is part of being alive. The question is, do you rise to face your fear, or do you allow it to dictate your choices? Life is never easy. It throws hurdles in your way when you least expect it, and just when you think you’ve found your footing, your world turns upside down.
“What’s next?” you ask?
Life is what’s next.
It’s terrifying and invigorating all at once, but it’s all part of the adventure.
This Curly Life 
Honest and beautifully written. I love you
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