Last week I told you about the wild spectrum of emotions that ricocheted throughout my body during my son’s college graduation. But what I didn’t tell you was how much it triggered my own “I need to be perfect” younger-self trauma.
Did you think you had to have it all figured out the day you walked across that stage in your cap and gown? I sure did.
I wish I could go back and hug 21-year-old me in her itchy graduation robe and say, “It’s okay to be stupid. It’s okay to not know. It’s okay to say I’ll figure it out.” Because here’s the truth: none of us really knew.
We just walked across a stage, moved a tassel, threw a hat, and pretended we weren’t panicking inside.
If you just graduated, congratulations! But also… I know you might be terrified. Even if you’ve got a job lined up, you might be thinking:
“Is this really what I want?”
“Is this the right path?”
“Who the hell am I even becoming?”
I’ve been there. I rushed into college. Rushed into law school. Rushed into a life I thought I was supposed to want… that I was told I wanted.
And, on day one of law school, I sat in the front row and realized—I’d made a huge mistake. Huge.
So I dropped out….
…from a payphone. At an undisclosed location. Thousands of miles from home. Because I thought my parents might murder me were I to tell them that I — gasp! — didn’t want to be the perfect daughter they’d raised from the (dis)comfort of the same room as them.
I once heard a lyric, read a poem, saw an instagram post — I can’t remember, thanks menopause — that went something like, “You said I’m not the daughter you raised. No, I’m just not the daughter you built to show off.” And, yes, that was ringing in my ears.
But, spoiler alert, they didn’t kill me. They didn’t even disown me. In fact, they helped.
It turns out that I had built that entire Perfection Prison with lumber and nails of my own creation.
Here’s what I want you to know:
It’s okay to change your mind.
It’s okay to not have the dream job right now.
It’s okay to take a job for the money (yes, I said it).
It’s okay to be figuring it out. Most people are.
And the people who love you? They’ll stick by you.
Kids are graduating but it’s graduation season for you too…
During this season I always prepare myself for the parade of the predictable: the poetry about potential and the warbles about wonderment that is the graduation speech.
Most of it sucks. But all of it is focused on the youth.
It goes something like this: “You are fresh faced, young vessels of promise, and there is nothing you can’t do! Sally forth, go yonder, the road ahead awaits with sheer delight. The world, my young friends, is your oyster.”
Well, screw them, right? What about us, my friends?!?
Every time I go to a graduation, all I can think is… “Hmm, why is the assignment of potential, wonderment, and promise saved only for the young while we, the old, allow our big dreams to lay fallow.
What if we expected of ourselves now what we expected of our younger versions?
What if we sallied forth, went longer, and delighted in the road ahead?
I had all sorts of plans when I graduated. (See that video!)
And I was wrong about every single one of them.
But I didn’t give up on my dream. You see, I thought my dream was to become an elected official but, really, my dream was to be a lever of change that manifested the better world I wished to inhabit. And that, I have done through a varied and broad career.
It’s not different than the goals we set for ourselves. But we get stuck in achieving these goals because we get stuck in assigning progress only to titles and achievements, rather than purpose.
I had a friend who was deep in the process of losing 100 pounds. He was already halfway there when I asked him how he planned to lose the next 50 pounds, he said, “That goal is too big and feels insurmountable. My goal, instead, is to workout a few minutes longer each day, climbing more stairs each time I run the stadium with you, and to eat healthier with each meal. The weight will take care of itself.”
And this is how I knew he would reach his goal. He was focused on the purpose — it’s not the number on the scale, it’s being able to move more and better — that’s at the heart of his big dream.
So, my graduation gift to you is this: remember what is at the purpose of your efforts, live into your big dreams, reimagine your promise, and jump feet first into the wonderment that awaits.
Because, here is what I know to be true this week: the world is all of our oysters.
Got a graduate in your life? Send this their way. Let’s remind them: panic is normal, purpose is possible, and they’re gonna be just fine.
