Where’s the pomp?

Although grades haven’t posted, I am done with my undergrad. What was once unknown anxiety-inducing territory became my norm. And, now, it has come to an end, bringing with it new anxiety-inducing changes.

It’s a little anticlimactic. As an online student, I didn’t get to know anyone super well. I also opted not to go to graduation for various reasons, not the least of which is how boring those ceremonies are. I’ll do something super informal next month, but I suppose the lack of a flashy end is par for the course for untraditional students like me.

But I did it, anyway. I went back to school in my mid-30s. I managed a 4.0 for the first six semesters, which earned me an invite to the Honors College. I’ve also earned honors in my specific college and an invite to the Phi Kappa Beta honor society that, as far as I can tell, is about the only one worth joining. I turned a service-learning opportunity into a paying gig along the way. I signed up for two internships, one which set me on the path to sex educator certification and the other that got me closer to research to strengthen my graduate school applications.

All that sounds pretty good, although I’m still struggling to feel pride. Maybe there was some in the late beginning, but it’s hard to find now, especially as I find myself at the end of the era and unsure what I’m doing next. Imposter syndrome is a bitch, anyway.

The plan is to forge ahead with graduate school apps and take things day by day. People keep saying it’s ambitious. It feels more like it’s what’s necessary to keep me afloat. I don’t know.

Endings are always bittersweet, aren’t they?