As I once again answered a plan with a stressed ‘I don’t know’, I realized the paradox of a graduating student. Not yet in the structured rhythm of a workplace, where weekdays are for working and weekends are for resting. No longer in the fun chaos of student life, where exams and deadlines dictate party days and spontaneous trips. Somewhere in between, where the days of the week don’t decide anything, the pressure of expectations rises hourly, and thoughts of the future shift from dreams to nightmares in seconds.
While my already-working friends plan their winter vacations and my still-studying friends organize next week’s day-drinking picnics, I can’t join either. I am planning everything and nothing at the same time. I might move to another city next week or stay put for another year. This summer, I could be learning the ins and outs of my industry during an internship or rewriting my thesis. Next year, I might land a job quickly or spend months hopping from one soul-crushing interview to another. I do not know.
Yes, there’s a certain thrill in the unknown. An undiscovered go-to coffee place, a work bestie yet to meet, or finally taking a trip without guilt over student loans is almost romantic. But not knowing which city—or country—you might live in next month, how often you’ll see your loved ones, or whether you’ll even find a job in the field you passionately studied for? Slightly less thrilling. At least I know my plan for the next two days. Probably.
Why am I even expecting to have it all figured out when I’m still in the process of becoming?
And at least this uncertainty lets me try things on. One day, I’m an academic, rewriting my thesis chapters for the hundredth time. The next, I’m a corporate girlie, frantically connecting with everyone I’ve ever met on LinkedIn while drafting my fifth internship application of the day. Then, I’m a vagabond, debating long-term versus short-term housing, as my internal critic snidely whispers that I should’ve sucked up the cringe and become an influencer back in Covid times.
But why am I even expecting to have it all figured out when I’m still in the process of becoming? Maybe it’s the never-ending questions from family about job prospects. Maybe it’s the subtle irritation from friends when I once again RSVP with uncertainty. Most likely, it’s my own expectations I’m afraid to fall short of as I rush through the days while the unknown grips me tighter.
Yet, maybe this in-between space isn’t just a void to escape, but a phase to move through. A liminal stage—where the past’s chaos hasn’t settled, the present is unstructured, and the future is both exhilarating and terrifying. Maybe this paradox isn’t a hurdle but a rehearsal—training me for the next unpredictable chapters. So when they come, I won’t just stress over it again—I’ll meet it with a laid-back ‘I don’t know.’
Hopefully.
LIZA KOLOMIIETS