Every time somebody asks me what I want to do after college, I get hit with tons of stress because I feel like I should have a perfectly prepared answer.
Maybe I’m going to work in public relations. Maybe I’ll end up going to law school. Maybe I’ll pursue something in marketing, business, or public policy. Usually, I give some sort of combination with those answers and hope that it sounds like I have some sort of clear plan.
The truth is that I don’t at all.
Something I’ve learned about being in college is that college can make it seem like everyone around you knows exactly what they’re going to do with their future: where they’re going to live, their goals. Somebody already has a dream internship lined up. Someone else knows what career they want to have, and they’ve known it since middle school. Another student has mapped out every single class they’re going to take until graduation, along with the graduate program they’re going to go to afterwards.
Meanwhile, I feel like I am constantly changing my mind.
I’ve reconsidered my major. I’ve switched minors more times than I’d like to admit. I’ve been researching different academic programs. I’ve looked into combinations ranging from communications and marketing all the way to economics, professional sales, and public policy. Every time I discover a new interest, I wonder whether I should change my entire plan just to include it.
I plan all these advising meetings in hopes that one of them will tell me exactly what path to take that makes the most sense. At this point, my advisors are probably sick of me and dread the moment I schedule another meeting with them. I always arrive with a list of questions about majors, minors, internships, study abroad programs, and possible careers. I’m fully prepared with the credit requirements. I make semester-by-semester plans, and I imagine all the different versions of my future.
Sometimes I leave those meetings feeling more confident, and others I leave with even more questions and possibilities to consider. I know that my academic advisors are there to help, but I’m slowly realizing that they can’t decide what I want for myself. No meeting, personality test, or perfectly organized spreadsheet can guarantee that I’m choosing the right future for myself. I can collect all the advice and learn about my options, but eventually I must become comfortable making decisions on my own.
That task is difficult when college constantly reminds us that time is passing. We are expected to choose a major, build our resume, apply for internships, join organizations and extracurriculars, create professional connections and networks, all while figuring out who we are. At the same time, it can feel like every decision carries these very permanent consequences. Choosing one path sometimes feels like closing the door on every other possible version of my life.
Social media makes that pressure even stronger. LinkedIn is filled with internship announcements, leadership positions, and carefully written updates about people’s professional journeys. Even when I’m genuinely happy for other students, it is very difficult not to compare their visible accomplishments to my private uncertainty. What I often forget about is that I’m only seeing the polished versions of their life: a person who announces an exciting internship without sharing the applications that were rejected. Someone may sound confident when discussing their career but still question whether it’s even right for them. Even the people who appear to have everything planned out may eventually change their minds. Having a plan doesn’t necessarily mean having certainty.
I’m also beginning to understand that changing direction doesn’t automatically mean that I’ve made a mistake. Every major, minor, class and career path that I’ve considered has taught me something different about myself. Exploring different options has helped me recognize what interests me and what does not, and what kind of work I may find meaningful. Maybe the goal of college isn’t to predict the rest of my life correctly on the first try. Maybe it’s to learn enough about myself to make the next decision, even if I can’t see every decision that comes after that.
I still like having plans. I will probably continue scheduling advisor meetings, organizing my semesters, and researching careers late at night. Being uncertain has not suddenly turned me into someone who can effortlessly “go with the flow,” but I’m trying to stop treating uncertainty like evidence that I’m falling behind or failing. I don’t need to know the exact job that I will have 10 years from now. I don’t need to choose between every interest immediately. I only need to pay attention to what excites me, take advantage of the opportunities in front of me, and remain open to discovering paths that I don’t know even exist yet.
There’s a difference between having no direction or exploring. I may not have one perfectly defined destination, but I am learning, gaining experience and moving forward step by step.
If you are also changing your major, reconsidering your career or booking yet another meeting with your advisor, you’re not the only one. The people around you may seem certain, but college is filled with students quietly asking themselves the same questions.
Not knowing what you want to do with the rest of your life doesn’t mean that you’re lost. It simply means you’re still figuring it out.
And honestly, isn’t that part of what college is for?