Finishing My Degree, Among Other Things
taking my power back and moving forward
My final paper sure snuck up on me—
in proper final paper fashion. At 11:55pm laying in my childhood bed I, with perhaps more force than necessary, clicked submit. With a deep sigh my eyelids fell and I pictured those two measly credits that had been sitting between me and my degree finally dissolve.
When I learned almost two years ago that my bachelor’s degree was in fact not lost in the mail, but that it was not going to arrive at all, I wasn’t quite sure how to feel. At first I shrugged it off— I should have known slacking in Victorian Literature would be the thing to bite me in the butt. Then a few days later I cried about it on the balcony of my Buena Park apartment over the phone to my mom. I was frustrated, confused, humiliated, and worst of all seemingly unable to do anything about it. I was paralyzed in anxiety.
The last six months had me stretched thin on a mental and emotional rollercoaster trying to finish school in the midst of COVID with a busted laptop, sorting out a failing relationship, and parting ways with friends who’d become family. To make matters worse, I was already an insomniac with unhealthy coping mechanisms.
Needless to say, my plate already felt full when I learned the news. It seemed the only things I had capacity for were bleaching my hair out in the California sun, and dreading the approaching moving date back to Seattle. The thought of enrolling in even a single online class seemed impossible. But sure enough, the summer of 2021 came to a close and I packed my beloved Dream Wagon to the brim with my belongings and made my way up the coast.
Somewhere in the midst of that first long Washington winter back home, something switched in my mindset: that I wouldn’t be able to finish until I wanted that degree— not for my parents, nor my peers, but for me. I had entered college grudgingly in the first place. I mean at seventeen, when we’re expected to decide on college, who really knows what they want? Let alone, what they need?
At twenty-three, I had a better idea: if I wanted to move forward as an adult and accomplish my goals, it would require a lot of personal work. I needed to learn to love myself, and to overcome the mental blocks I’d created. I needed to look in the mirror and know that I am a person who finishes what they start— even if that meant finishing years later. And I needed support— people in my life who not only felt safe, but who would push me past my insecurities. Basically, I needed to reclaim my power. So I did.
I got a job at a coffee shop where I met some of my best friends yet. The routine of the shop provided the structure and community I so desperately craved. I chopped my hair, started taking better care of my body, signed up for therapy, and— maybe the biggest miracle of all— started sleeping through the night for the first time in years. Mostly with the help of friends and an exceptionally warm year for Seattle, my sense of individuality and confidence came flooding back.
And yet, the idea of succeeding at a class I had already failed at still daunted me. It took quite a bit of time and convincing for me to reluctantly come around and begin the process of finding a suitable class to fill my credits. And I really mean reluctantly. In hindsight I think that’s because deep down I knew I was ready, and that was just scary. I couldn’t keep fooling myself— the same excuses I used to hold myself back all my other years of schooling didn’t work anymore. Now, I was here as an adult taking the reins on my life. If I wanted to move forward, which I desperately did, I couldn’t keep putting it off.
Months of back and forth emails with my university eventually led to finding a suitable class. I enrolled last November in Modern British Literature. To some, it was just another boring English class to breeze through and get onto more important courses, but I have never poured my heart and soul into a class like that before. Truth be told, I loved it. I’m sure it’s in part that I only had to focus on the single class and could dedicate all my energy to it. It was also the first time EVER that I managed to develop and stick to routine study habits, stay ahead in class, and (patting myself on the back for this one) care about grades at all. In the end, it paid off. I performed better in that stinking literature class than any other class I’ve taken. By the end of February, it was done! I submitted that final paper with the greatest sense of accomplishment in school I’d ever felt before.
So that puts me where I am today:
feeling a little late in the “figuring things out” game. But I am learning to find contentment, and to seek opportunities in that. My life isn’t perfect by any means— I’m a ways from where I dream to be, but I’m putting in the work to get there and that’s the best I can do. Whether or not those two college credits will make a difference in how my career journey plays out over the coming years, they made a massive impact on who I believe myself to be and what I believe I am capable of.
Among other things…
Finally feeling settled at a new job and living back at home
Looking into opportunities to build skills and experience for a career
Keeping myself busy and active
Starting Spanish lessons to refresh my language skills, and taking some online copywriting courses
Got a library card! Back in my reading era
It’s spring! Taking on transitions with gratitude and hopefulness