I Shouldn't Be Here

I shouldn’t be here.

That’s what the wicked little voice in my head started whispering the moment I stepped into my first class of my last undergrad semester. As I sat in my stiff desk, reading on my Nook until my professor showed up, little snippets of conversations pricked my ears:

“Mom only got me the bronze meal plan this year. I’m starving to death.”

“I’m making a mock-u-mentary on BG Undead. It’s like a Nerf war zombie attack game. Hardcore.”

“I’m moving to NYC when I get out of here. I’m gonna be on Broadway. I’ll probably have to be chorus at first, but that won’t last too long.”

And the little voice in my head gets a little louder.

I shouldn’t be here.

I shouldn’t be sitting in a classroom with a bunch of kids barely old enough to drink. I shouldn’t be stressing about exams and essays and wondering if I’ll ever be able to remember how to write one in perfect MLA format. I shouldn’t be closing down bars or going to night clubs or perfecting a trick shot in beer pong. I shouldn’t be up until 4am on average. I shouldn’t be worried about where my life will go after college. No, at my age, I should be a few years into a blooming career in an office somewhere, with a salary and benefits. I should be paying down my college debt. My long-standing boyfriend and I should be starting to plan a wedding, or thinking about having a baby.

I was raised with some hard lines drawn in regards to age. When I was a teenager wearing crazy makeup or a tight top, the response was always “Do it while you’re young! Soon you won’t be able to dress like that.” In college, every semester past year four was met with lectures and unintentional guilt trips. Photos of me at Ination were met with raised eyebrows and comments like, “aren’t you a little old for this?”

I’m happy to be in BG. I’m happy with my life here, as fleeting as it is. But a heavy sense of shame looms in the back of my brain, and sometimes I just can’t silence it. And it seems at its worst when I’m sitting in a classroom surrounded by people who were just hitting puberty when I graduated high school.

I shouldn’t be here. This chapter of my life should have been long finished.

In 2012, after bungling my last few semesters of college for a multitude of reasons, I fled the frustrations of academia for Columbus with no real plan but to escape my own sense of failure and start the fresh new post-college life that every undergrad dreams about, degree be damned. I plucked my then new boyfriend from his parents’ house to be my way-too-soon roommate and off I went.

My life in Columbus wasn’t terrible. In fact, I’d say about 65% of it was great. In two years, I had two good jobs which paid enough for me to survive with a roommate, and neither job was terrible. I actually enjoyed both of them for much of the time. I was part of a belly dance troupe and a small group of friends. I paid my bills unaided by student loans. I bought groceries every week. I lived like a big girl in the real world.

Unfortunately, things were also tense. My roommate turned out to be unreliable by way of rent and bills, leading to embarrassing financial struggles, shut off utilities, and constant stress. I stayed in a relationship for far too long largely out of emotional dependency, because there weren’t many people around me. The unchanging routine that had become my life made me feel restless and trapped. Seasons changed outside my office window, holidays came and went, the world shifted around me, but my life stayed exactly the same, day in, day out. Without new experiences or much variety, the darker parts of my mind started to take over, and I was swallowed by the storm of tumultuous thoughts: I am a failure. I haven’t done anything with my life. My greatest accomplishment since graduating high school is a half-finished novel that will never get published. I wasted five years of my life and didn’t even finish what I’d set out to do. The loudest thought was, “Is this my life? Will this be the rest of my life?”

It was ultimately that feeling that pushed me to come back to BG and finish my degree. I didn’t want to be a failure. I didn’t want my mountain of school debt to have been for nothing. I didn’t want to spend my life in entry level jobs, unable to get anything more because of my lack of degree. But my newfound ambition doesn’t change what I did in the past. And though the old tropes of college; the holiday breaks, the crazy hours, the stress of finals, etc; haven’t changed, being in college is so much different now than it had been when I was of typical college age.

The feeling of promise and potential is gone. At 18, 20, 22, you feel like your world is just beginning. People around you discuss hopes and dreams and the bright shiny future they have planned for themselves. Everyone uses terms like “could be” and “will be.” I will be on Broadway. I could be a painter, but now I’m thinking about photography. I will be on the red carpet. I will have a wonderful career and husband and family. I could be the next Oscar Wilde.

At my age, I’m supposed to already be things. People my age use the term “I am.” I am a supervisor. I am almost debt free. I am having a baby. I am buying a house. Overly-idealistic ambitions have become realistic goals and achievements. Finances are stable. Families spawned. And then there’s me.

I love my life in BG, but I constantly beat myself up about it, constantly worry about being “behind” everyone else. I have a great support system full of wonderful people who encourage me not to worry about where I am. Don’t compare yourself to others. Live life your way. Who cares what age you are if you’re bettering yourself? I want to listen. I want to be like the people who believe that age is just a number, enjoy where I am in my life, and let go of this shame I feel for not having graduated “on time” and settled down “on time.” I truly am happy that I decided to go back and get my degree. I’m actually considering getting my MFA. But I don’t think I’d be able to handle it if the feeling of being behind everyone else followed me to grad school. Could I live with that feeling for two more years?

I’m trying to keep positive. I’m trying to enjoy my time in BG, the rush I get from learning something new, my beloved Ination, my social circle, my ridiculously awesome relationship. I hope it will all work out in the end, and that someday I’ll feel like I’m right where I’m “supposed” to be, whatever that means. Until then, I’ll just have to try to shut down the little voice in my head with good times, hard work, and a splash of alcohol on weekends.

Sorry for the downer post, my loves. A happier/rantier one will come next.