In a lot of ways, I crave simplicity. I don’t need a lot of people around me to feel satisfied. I wouldn’t consider myself materialistic; my happiness can spark from a friendly smile or a ray of sunshine that hits the lake just right. I like to spend my Sunday afternoons at home, watching movies with my roommates or marinating in my bed, alone. My favourite stories are simple; my most memorable days are the ones where I didn’t do much at all. So, why am I so scared of a slow life?
As I’m thrown into the final quarter of my final semester, I’m forced to really think about the type of life I want to construct for myself. Until right about now, things have been built for me—my parents made my schedule in my earliest years, and from the moment they released me into the world, my school schedule governed my life. Without that structure, there is so much room for self-construction, and many questions arise about what I want my world to look like. When I think about this world, the word that taunts me is boring. Every job I look at, every nine-to-five, is laced with this fear. The anticipation that it will be slow and repetitive. The fear that in doing work that doesn’t bring me to life, I will become dull, a distilled version of myself. This feeling has cumulated into a rejection of normalcy for my life after graduation. I don’t want my newly graduated years to be a template for the rest of my life. I don’t want them to be organized and settled the way my life will be at thirty- or forty-years-old. I crave the confusion and messiness of youth. I want to travel, change, lose myself and find it a million times. I want to do it all before it’s too late. When is it too late?
So, what does this mean for right now? How can I plan for a life I want to be unplanned? How can I anticipate the spontaneous? I am learning that I need to make choices, and that this space for freedom will peak out from inside of those choices. I must remind myself that a nine-to-five will still leave room for adventure, the same way I have had ample room for silliness and exploration in my last twenty years of schooling. When you really think about it, you can always make time for the things that matter. The quest is finding out what matters to you. So far, I have realized how important social time is to me, and how much I value adventuring, and I have prioritized this in my life. With that, I must trust that wherever I end up, I will continue to prioritize the things that matter.
My older brother, Leo, graduated from his undergraduate degree with a job offer at a consulting firm and a serious girlfriend. In under a year he moved out and his life had a full-grown rhythm to it; it felt like watching my parents. This pattern he fell into terrified me. It became so serious, so fast—how? He was just like me a few minutes ago, and now he’s this full-blown man. We never said it outright, but I know he felt this too; he was itching for change. For the last four months, Leo and his girlfriend have taken time off from work and have travelled Southeast Asia. I have never seen him happier.
I am grasping onto my youth with every fibre of my being. It’s like I think someone will rip it out of my hands, or I’m just going to wake up one day and have lost it.As though I’m going to leave it at school when I graduate. In writing this, I am reminding myself how ridiculous that idea is. The control lies in my own hands—I can change my life as I feel fit. I can make choices and unmake them. I can move around. The most important thing is to learn about you. Figure out what fuels you, what balances out your life, what gives you the energy to go on, and make the time for it. No matter where you are, you can make that time. If you feel like your life is going to suck you up like quicksand, reclaim your own control; think of Leo, and remember you can always take a step back and reclaim your own freedom.