I'm Allison. And after over 5 years of indecision, you can call me a "professional student."

You'd think that by now I'd have it all figured out. You'd think that after 5 years of cramming developing efficient study plans, reading almost every academic article in existence, and writing essays until my knuckles went numb, I could have come to even the most basic conclusion of what I want to do after I graduate. But the more work I do, the more I discover that my "life plan" is far from complete. The question of, "What are you doing after graduation, Allison?" plagues virtually every family function and causes me to want to rip my hair out strand-by-strand. What AM I doing after graduation?

College is the stepping stone into the rest of your life, and if you don’t have it figured out by graduation, all the signs point to a lifetime of mundane tasks and insufficient self worth. And as graduation fast approaches this December, spatulas and greasy hamburgers haunt my dreams.

And this is something that we’ve been inadvertently told our entire lives. Virtually every adult from the age of four onwards has asked me, “What do you want to be when you grow up, Allison?” At four, my answer would have been, “a Ballerina!” But at the age of eight, I stormed out of my dance class, defeated upon discovering I have two left feet.

At the age of twelve, I would have told you that I was going to be a singer; that was until I found out that I would be rejected from the lead part in Oklahoma! for being too “pitchy.” At the age of 15, I was going to be a psychologist, but that was mostly because I was ready to figure out my own inevitable teenage angst. At the age of 17, I was going to be a radio broadcaster, and half-way through my first year of college at 18, I no longer had an answer.

This turned into a joke for awhile. “What are you majoring in, Allison?” resulted in a light-hearted response of, “it’s a surprise.” I spent the next couple of years of college in this similar sort of "let's-fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants" mentality, but by 20, these responses were no longer funny.

Enter panic mode.

Here I am: at this point, I am 20 years old. In my third year of college. And am still grappling with that age-old question of "what do I want to be when I grow up?" And just as I was four, and eight, and twelve, and fifteen... I hadn't the faintest idea.

So I began a process of trial and error. I tried out a couple classes and student organizations until I found something that did more than just vaguely interest me. I wanted to find something that I was so passionate about that I couldn't sit still while talking about it. I was determined to find a life of value. I was determined to find a career path that suited me and made me feel like I belonged here on this crazy, messed up Earth.

And I thought I found that. I started and quit at least 3 different majors. I grappled with many options in my head. I closed my eyes and imagined myself with in a radio production studio at one moment and in a corner office in another. But finally, by 21 I had settled and was confident with my choice.

Was.

At (almost) 23, I am one semester away. I have one remaining semester of five and a half years of blood, sweat, and tears. And as the job market quickly approaches my consciousness, my confidence slowly diminishes and I'm left with that same "what AM I doing" mantra that was oh-so familiar just a few years prior.

And I wish I could paint a pretty picture and say that I have reached some sort of epiphany. I wish I could say that I have landed the internship of my dreams and have specific goals. But I can't say these things. Because I'm still lost. I am not sure of anything. The uncertainty has left me with a pit in my stomach. I frantically search for career outlooks and brainstorm ways in which I can make my degree "work." But frankly, these efforts are useless. I have no idea where I am going. But, I'm trying to make it work.

My perspective has transitioned. I have gone from a "joking" demeanor, to panic mode, to... well.. I'm not entirely sure. But what I do know is that whatever happens, I will be okay. I have to be. I have reached the point in my life where I must choose to be comfortable in the storm. And it is just that, a choice. I will have to consciously decide every morning not to panic but allow God to take the control that I can not take. I no longer can panic. I no longer can blow it off. But I'll ride the waves as they hit.

Meanwhile, I'll just be here, fighting off nightmares of fast food and loving life as it comes.