I have been a Masters graduate for roughly three weeks now, and, as I mentioned in my last post, have already been on a rollercoaster of emotions. This isn't a surprise to me--in the weeks and months leading up to graduation, I recognized that I would likely be an anxious mess (or, more so than I already am) upon foregoing my student identity. Losing a 24 year old identity can be scary for the reflective of sorts, so, like the true type 4 INFP that I am, I have taken to writing about it.
One of the hardest things about coming out of this intense 2-year period is realizing that I didn't get a lot of choice regarding where to focus my energy. While this is a common feeling for any student, I didn't realize the severity of this circumstance until like yesterday. College was demanding in its own right, but I had ample opportunity to explore professional, social, and personal identities. Having evolved into a less irritating, whiny, and narcissistic person by the time I got to graduate school, this kind of exploration was less necessary, but it was still an extreme transition to go from someone with two jobs, vastly different kinds of friendships, and interdisciplinary interests to either a comp teacher or a digital rhetoric scholar. That's it. Two hats.
Do you know how hard it is to mix and match with two measly hats?
My focus on these two identities was intense. I neglected essentially every social role I'd previously held while thinking, "yes, everything is fine, I'm juggling everything and have a life--look, I was in the mountains just 10 short months ago!" I insisted that I still had hobbies--like watching YouTube--only to realize that I'd maintained that hobby because, in the end, it was research. I had assumed that because I felt confident for the first time in my life, I didn't have any personal issues to work out. While I appreciated being able to fully immerse myself in my graduate program, it left me with a sense of loss and purposelessness immediately after coming out of it. Turns out, only feeling confident and worthwhile when you are pumping out research isn't exactly the healthiest thing.
I am feeling this sense of loss, and I'm still working on three academic projects. I can only imagine what will happen when I'm truly done.
It's easy to transfer a sense of worth from my job as a student to my job as an instructor/tutor. Professionally, I am still comfortably situated (okay, situated) in higher education. Despite the extreme irony in working on a website that discusses the dire nature of being an adjunct, only to face a very likely possibility of becoming an adjunct myself, I am in a place where I don't need to support a family and can continue to scrape by. I can still quantify my success, no matter what career I end up in. I am, quite honestly, a budding workaholic (hire me, plz!) and can pour my entire identity in my work. But maybe, after going through a jarring realization that there is little of myself left, maybe I don't want to.
The thing about working is that eventually you won't be (profound moments with Kira, everyone!). Whether that means during the summer, weekends, or retirement, there will be some moments in your life in which you have to get a grip of who you are outside of what you are paid to do. Yes, I was fortunate enough to apply my hobby to my scholarly work, but I can't just traipse around parties going, "have you considered the feminist implications of the beauty video lately?". I have a track record of going into brief moments of insanity during times that I'm not working--nothing big, just the usual nightly fear of getting robbed and murdered, and destroying the health of my body, mind, and all of my relationships. I'd rather not have to deal with these pesky depressive episodes every time I leave a job or take some time off.
I have had this desire to live authentically outside of work for a while now, but it wasn't until I visited with one of my best friends from high school that I fully grasped how to do that. A minor reality check was when she asked me, "so now that you're done with grad school, what kinds of hobbies will you revisit?", only for me to draw a blank. On a grander scale, however, we chatted like no time had passed, remembering the cringe-worthy stories that we posted for the other to read on Google Docs, our yoga adventures, and that time I accidentally encouraged a group of frat brothers to yell "tits out for the boys!". I articulated feeling 16 again, and recognizing that "student" wasn't a major facet of my identity at 16.
Feeling an itch to produce some form of writing, I was inspired by my friend's reference towards the fiction I wrote. Despite feeling irrationally terrified of creative writing (no mention of Judith Butler or phrases like "it is important to note that"? Madness!), I wrote some pages of a slightly-too-formulaic, slightly-too-autobiographical story. Hey, some habits are hard to break. But, at the very least, it's a habit I haven't been able to visit in 2+ years.
So, it's time to identify some more goals that have nothing to do with my professional or scholarly identity. If any of y'all have ideas for hobbies I could try or adventures I could embark on, feel free to share! And to those of you who are currently in grad school, take a weekend off, spend less time on an assignment than you might be inclined to, and remember your worth outside of your intellectual pursuits.
And in the spirit of reconnecting with the old,
Namaste.
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