As the summer days continue to fly by, I’m finding myself thinking more and more about where I want to be when fall rolls around. I’ll be entering my senior year of college, something that seems completely normal to me one minute and insanely improbable the next. I’m not ready to graduate college and be spit out into the real world, but I’m not opposed to it, either. I think the thing that makes me the most nervous about being a real, live adult is the thought of entering the uncertain, murky waters of the unknown.
I’ve spent the last twenty-one years of my life in a place of security. Every step has been mapped out for me; I went from elementary school to middle school, middle school to high school, and high school to college. Of course there were things I decided on my own, like where to go to college and where to study abroad, but there was always that structure behind me to fall back on when I felt nervous about making big decisions. I knew where I was going next.
Now, however, I’m approaching the place where the sidewalk ends. I have one more year at Miami University, and then it’s over. I’m going to be standing at the edge of my path, looking out into the unknown. Where will I live? It’s up in the air. What will I do? Will I get a job, go on to portfolio school, or take a year off and travel? The answers are unclear, and there’s nobody telling me where to go next. It’s scary and new, but it’s also exciting and freeing, and I’d rather reach out and grab what’s coming than run for cover, but it’s hard to do.
Here’s the thing about humans: we’re creatures of comfort. We like to be in control. We like to know what’s coming next. We like to sit around and daydream about the future -- who we’ll be, where we’ll live, who we’ll marry, what we’ll do -- and while planning is a good thing, I think that we overindulge in it sometimes. Our desire to be comfortable becomes our ultimate goal, and when that happens, we put ourselves in danger of missing out on what life has to offer us.
When we graduate college, we are also graduating from comfort. We’re saying goodbye to the structure that has held us for so long, guided us, and let us grow. Think of it like learning to ride a bike: you’ve got your dad holding on to the back of the seat, and then he decides to let go. When that happens, we get to decide whether we’re going to keep riding with confidence or if we’re going to stop pedaling, wobble, and crash into the bushes, which really doesn’t sound fun at all. It sounds like wounded pride and scratched-up knees and little burrs all up in your hair. Ironic, isn’t it?
Settling for comfort out of fear will do nothing but frustrate us and limit the trajectory of our lives, and that’s just not going to work, so I’ve decided to avoid comfort at all costs. I’m replacing worrying about the future with fully embracing the present, accepting that while the future is wide open and sometimes looks like the scary abyss from "Finding Nemo," I will not know what it holds until I start moving toward it.
I’m excited to see what’s there. I’m choosing to focus on the freedom in the unknown, instead of the lack of security. I’m choosing to believe that challenges will grow me instead of destroy me. I’m choosing to believe in life over fear.
