Yesterday was my last day of classes in undergrad. I will be crossing the stage at graduation on May 21st and will promptly begin my post-grad life, searching for jobs, studying for my GREs, and researching graduate programs. What a sweet time to be alive.
But with my celebration, I feel a strong sense of dissatisfaction. As I collect my cords and regalia, I am painfully aware of how empty parts of my college experience is.
I never studied abroad.
I didn't finish my independent research for Cater Society.
I dropped my economics major.
I have a long list of trade-offs I made for my health and while listening to so many other soon-to-be graduates recount their undergraduate experiences, I am hyperaware of everything I missed out on.
Sometimes I can't resist obsessing over what I could have done differently over the last three years; should I have stayed for all 4 years even though it would mean $25k more debt? Should I have taken time off when I was sick so I could have studied abroad? Should I have transferred freshman year, like I wanted to?
But other times I know that I played the right game with the cards I was dealt. I ante-ed up when I needed to and I folded when I could tell I was playing a losing game. I did what I had to in order to take care of myself. Unfortunately, in a society that prides productivity over self-care, there is no place on a resume to put "fought, and continues to fight, a chronic illness."
So many of the people I will walk across the stage with have resumes littered with extracurriculars and study abroad experiences and internships from every school break. Unfortunately, I gave up roles in school plays so I could have enough time to do physical therapy. I cancelled my summer semester in Scotland because my syncope needed attention. I turned down internships in D.C. because I am not well enough to drive.
When people congratulate me on my graduation, they never fail to mention how impressed they are with my early graduation in spite of my illness. They are impressed with what I have accomplished, in spite of my adversities. My illness is part of that equation. Would they have been impressed with a healthy student who had done what I have? Would I have accomplished more had I not been sick?
As this chapter of my life (undergrad) closes, I am haunted by the "what if's" and "could've been's." I'm proud of the work I did this year and the last three, but I know I would have a different resume and a far prettier pictures on my Facebook, had I not gotten sick. Usually I am fairly good at limiting my "what if I hadn't gotten sick" thoughts, but it has been harder these last few weeks. The last two weeks has been full of award ceremonies, final meetings, farewell receptions, and other celebrations. I have skipped several because, for whatever reason, I have spent almost every evening hiding in my bed with debilitating migraines. It's fitting that I miss some of these celebrations due to my illness, because I missed much of my senior year experiences for the same reason.
When I started my college career, I budgeted my time to focus on school, theater, political campaigns, several jobs, volunteer work, etc. But this year, I have to budget my time to complete school, work enough to make some money, and take care of my health. Although I had no choice in this reevaluation of time, it is hard to look at the time I spend sleeping off a migraine or doing physical therapy as anything but wasted time. When half your energy is used to take care of yourself and simply keep your body functioning, it is terribly difficult to feel like a productive member of society. So as I walk across the stage later this month, I will try my hardest to resist comparing myself to my peers who did more with their hand of cards than I did, reminding myself that I played a strong hand, with the cards I was dealt.
But with my celebration, I feel a strong sense of dissatisfaction. As I collect my cords and regalia, I am painfully aware of how empty parts of my college experience is.
I never studied abroad.
I didn't finish my independent research for Cater Society.
I dropped my economics major.
I have a long list of trade-offs I made for my health and while listening to so many other soon-to-be graduates recount their undergraduate experiences, I am hyperaware of everything I missed out on.
Sometimes I can't resist obsessing over what I could have done differently over the last three years; should I have stayed for all 4 years even though it would mean $25k more debt? Should I have taken time off when I was sick so I could have studied abroad? Should I have transferred freshman year, like I wanted to?
But other times I know that I played the right game with the cards I was dealt. I ante-ed up when I needed to and I folded when I could tell I was playing a losing game. I did what I had to in order to take care of myself. Unfortunately, in a society that prides productivity over self-care, there is no place on a resume to put "fought, and continues to fight, a chronic illness."
So many of the people I will walk across the stage with have resumes littered with extracurriculars and study abroad experiences and internships from every school break. Unfortunately, I gave up roles in school plays so I could have enough time to do physical therapy. I cancelled my summer semester in Scotland because my syncope needed attention. I turned down internships in D.C. because I am not well enough to drive.
When people congratulate me on my graduation, they never fail to mention how impressed they are with my early graduation in spite of my illness. They are impressed with what I have accomplished, in spite of my adversities. My illness is part of that equation. Would they have been impressed with a healthy student who had done what I have? Would I have accomplished more had I not been sick?
As this chapter of my life (undergrad) closes, I am haunted by the "what if's" and "could've been's." I'm proud of the work I did this year and the last three, but I know I would have a different resume and a far prettier pictures on my Facebook, had I not gotten sick. Usually I am fairly good at limiting my "what if I hadn't gotten sick" thoughts, but it has been harder these last few weeks. The last two weeks has been full of award ceremonies, final meetings, farewell receptions, and other celebrations. I have skipped several because, for whatever reason, I have spent almost every evening hiding in my bed with debilitating migraines. It's fitting that I miss some of these celebrations due to my illness, because I missed much of my senior year experiences for the same reason.
When I started my college career, I budgeted my time to focus on school, theater, political campaigns, several jobs, volunteer work, etc. But this year, I have to budget my time to complete school, work enough to make some money, and take care of my health. Although I had no choice in this reevaluation of time, it is hard to look at the time I spend sleeping off a migraine or doing physical therapy as anything but wasted time. When half your energy is used to take care of yourself and simply keep your body functioning, it is terribly difficult to feel like a productive member of society. So as I walk across the stage later this month, I will try my hardest to resist comparing myself to my peers who did more with their hand of cards than I did, reminding myself that I played a strong hand, with the cards I was dealt.
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