College Graduation: Separating From My $20,000 Security Blanket

No one ever told me the scariest part of college was graduation.

Personal Essay by BROOKE CARLSON

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“Do you ever think about what’s going to happen with us when I’m done with school?”

I couldn’t stop the words from tumbling through the darkness as I sat with my boyfriend, August, in a McDonald’s drive-thru one rainy night last fall.

His graduation date falls six months later than mine. Knowing I’ll have to move shortly after graduating school to find work, the question had been looming in my head for months.

“Well,” he started, a pensive look painted upon his face, colored in neon yellow. “I’m assuming we’ll figure it out.”

The answer sounded more like a question. His eyes were soft as he turned to look at me.

“Are you worried about it?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I replied. My voice sounded small and fragile.

“Yeah,” he echoed.

It feels like yesterday I was moving into a tiny dorm room, brimming with excitement and an overwhelming sense of apprehension.

I still feel this way, but now for a different reason.

Graduation.

The unanswerable question “What’s going to happen?” bursts into my brain often, leaving me feeling small and scared in a huge world with infinite possibilities.

This question usually surfaces at night. I feel my hands clam up and a tingle runs down my spine as my eyes flick wide open. Paralyzed with the fear of the unknown, sleep evades me for hours.

I only have two quarters left at Western. Two quarters to decide what I’ll do once I’ve ended my 16-year relationship with the warm, safe and cuddly cradle of the education system.

My decision to come to Western was an easy one. I lived in Seattle as a kid before my parents decided they’d had enough rain. We packed up and moved to Northern Idaho for a true small town experience.

I always considered myself a Washington kid. When college application season rolled around, I knew one thing and one thing only: I needed to get out of Northern Idaho. Growing up amidst Ponderosa Pines and rugged mountains was incredible, but I had grown tired of the starkly religious, uninteresting culture. Washington was a natural fit.

Western seemed edgy because it didn’t conform to traditional state school standards. No football team, no Greek system. After attending Post Falls High, a school that invested excessive amounts of money in Trojan football, it seemed like a breath of fresh air. That was enough for me to commit to four years of Bellingham life.

Eager to find a place to fit in, I started volunteering at Western’s radio station, KUGS, my freshman year. I was genuinely excited to hear that my first show was from 2 a.m. to 4 a.m. on Tuesday mornings.

Chugging coffee at 8 p.m. on Mondays became my first bad college habit. Riding my yellow beach cruiser through lamp-lit campus at 4:15 a.m., winter wind whipping through my layers of clothes, I had never felt as old or as cool.

I loved the feeling of independency that came from living seven hours from home. Now knowing that I’ll be cut-off from my parent’s financial aid in eight months, I feel less enchanted.

In a mental health study performed at Franciscan University in Ohio, researchers found that upperclassmen were ranked the most stressed, anxious and depressed among students. One of the top concerns of these upperclassmen was post-graduation plans, with 29.7 percent saying they experienced moderate concern, and 25.1 percent experiencing extreme concern.

Though it’s nerve-racking to be suspended in uncertainty, I find some comfort in the unknown, because I was in this same place almost four years ago. There are choices to be made, but for the first time with full autonomy, I get to make them.

My fear slumbers in places I’ve tried hard to ignore, a grab bag full of “will” and “what”. Will I move back home? What will I do if I’m unable to find a job in the profession I’ve trained so hard for? Will my friendships fizzle once I am gone? What should I do to prevent my relationship from coming to an end?

On the days when I can’t seem to silence the “What’s going to happen?” question, relief finds me through the recognition of my own control. Western has provided me the stepping-stones to make me a respectable journalist. I feel confident in my education. I can choose to continue learning, I can choose where I seek out work and I can choose to maintain the relationships I’ve formed at college.

As a student with two quarters left at Western, I am excited for a new journey with all of the potholes and twists it entails. Though I am planless, I dream about the plane tickets to buy, the job opportunities that open every day in the altering field of journalism and the new people I will meet and enjoy.

When the anxiety begins to drown me, my mind throws a life preserver, filled with scenarios of joy and adventure, fueling me with hope of the unknown. The road that ahead is full of opportunities, and my hands are on the wheel.