Grieving the Timeline I Imagined

Hey, it has been a while since I last wrote here. I graduated! Yeah, I still haven't processed that either.

I honestly thought the hardest part about graduating would be saying goodbye, but it’s actually been the quietness that followed. The weeks of slowly realizing that a chapter you built your life around has actually ended. College has ended.

For 22 years, my life had a clear rhythm. Every August meant a new school year. Every semester came with classes, assignments, deadlines, and a purpose. There was always something to work toward. Even when it was stressful (cause it sure as heck was), I knew what came next.

And that rhythm wasn’t just about school. College also meant constantly living between two places. I'd spend months building a life in San Diego, only to pack everything into my car and move back home to Colorado. Then I'd unpack, settle back into life there, and before long, I'd be packing everything up to return to San Diego again.

Over and over.

But graduation broke that rhythm.

For the first time, I wasn't packing for another semester. I was packing up an entire chapter of my life. I was moving into the unknown.

I don’t think I realized how emotionally exhausting that was until now.

Always arriving somewhere.

Always leaving somewhere.

Always living between one chapter and the next.

And then… graduation happened.

Suddenly, the structure I’d always known disappeared.

The month leading up the graduation was chaotic. Assignments galore, goodbyes to people I may never see again. Searching for the perfect grad dress. Attempting to attend every last college event. The anticipation of welcoming your family to your school and walking across the stage.

Then it happened... And I woke up the next morning and it was all gone. 

Forced to pack up my last 9 months. And the last 4 years. And even the last 18 years of being in school. And everyone constantly asking you, “so what’s next?”

Well, I thought I had an answer.

I was supposed to start graduate school this fall to earn my teaching credential and master's degree. I was gonna keep my rhythm. Move to San Diego in August, start school in September, begin new classes with new syllabi, and fall right back into the familiar rhythm (and stress) of being a student.

But life doesn't always unfold according to the timeline we imagine.

I’ve decided to defer graduate school for a year so I can work, save money, give myself a little more stability, and, most importantly, give myself permission to slow down.

Making that decision has been one of the hardest things I've ever done.

I always assumed I'd graduate in May, be back in a classroom as a student by August, and have my own classroom in a year from now. Letting go of that timeline felt like letting go of the future I'd pictured for myself.

But maybe this year isn't a detour. Maybe it's part of the journey. I'm still trying to accept this.

I thought I knew exactly what came next but now I'm learning to be okay with not having every detail figured out. And that's hard.

This summer doesn't feel like every other summer between school years. Every summer growing up, and even throughout college, felt temporary. It was simply a break before another school year began. There was always another first day waiting for me.

This summer feels different, bigger, scarier, and more uncertain.

For the first time, I genuinely understand what people mean when they talk about “real life.”

Now, for the first time, I’m entering a chapter without a clear outline telling me what comes next. But this is just a pause. In a year, I’ll be back in San Diego, ready to take that next step.

The world just suddenly expected me to become an adult. One day, you’re a student. The next, you’re expected to know how to build a life.

How do I save enough money?

How do I build a life that allows me to keep chasing my dream?

How do I trust that taking a year off doesn't mean I'm falling behind?

I still want to become a teacher. That dream hasn't changed.

What has changed is the timeline.

And maybe that's okay.

And I think that’s the part no one prepares you for.

So here I am standing somewhere between the life I’ve always known and the life I’m trying to build.

It’s exciting. It’s overwhelming. And if I’m being completely honest, it’s scary.

But maybe growing up isn’t about having every answer. Maybe it’s about continuing to chase the life you’ve dreamed of, even when you don’t yet know exactly how you’re going to get there.

I’ve found myself taking life one day at a time.

Sometimes one hour at a time.

I’m realizing that so much of my identity was wrapped up in being a student. When someone asked what I did, I always had an answer. Student. That title came with built-in goals, routines, and milestones.

Now I’m learning who I am outside of that.

Social media often makes it seem like everyone graduates, lands their dream job, signs a lease, starts a new chapter, and never looks back. But it doesn't seem to be the reality.

I think a lot of us are quietly grieving the life we knew while trying to be excited about the life we’re building.

We miss the routines.

The familiarity.

The certainty.

And at the same time, trying to embrace change.

It’s a strange place to exist.

Maybe that's what this season is really teaching me. Not every dream follows the timeline we planned. Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is admit we need more time, trust that taking a different path isn't the same as taking the wrong one, and believe that we're still moving forward even when it doesn't look the way we expected.