Finding Your Way Post Grad
The limbo stage of life
There were so many possibilities for life after college. I ended up doing a stint in New York City and it didn’t quite pan out.
Before leaving the city, I felt like I’d be going home with my tail between my legs. New York was supposed to be this symbol of success, so having to go home seemed like it would be the equivalent of failure.
Not one to accept defeat, I quickly adjusted my mentality. Re-grouping, refreshing, pivoting. I looked forward to the shocking cold of Lake Tahoe, the view from my bedroom, the sweet smell of warm pine trees in the sun, and being able to walk right out into nature instead of running 10 minutes to Central Park to feel alive.
Nature has always been relieving to me. The first thing I did after hugging my parents and dog was jump in the lake. I quickly got clear on what I wanted my life after college to look like. And then I realized how much more fulfilling the idea of spending my 20s skiing, camping, hiking, and going to the beach was, as opposed to going out for drinks and dancing, and meeting people I’d likely never speak to again.
The closest I got to a sense of community in New York City was the Upper East Side Run Club. Everyone (mostly) was friendly, had similar interests (at least in running), and wanted to socialize. And it showed me how deeply people crave connection, but how easy it is to pass it up when one has unlimited options. It’s like choosing between three ice cream flavors versus trying to taste them all before deciding. There’s an inundation of meaningless contacts you can be overwhelmed with on a daily basis. One will never run out of people in the city— and too many seem to think the grass will always be greener.
As soon as I got back to Tahoe, I was introduced to a new friend who invited me to a dinner party at his house. I saw how everyone is at most one connection away from knowing everyone in Tahoe. The openness of the people I met at the party was a bit astounding after having met person after person in the city who made me feel like a commodity on display. I’d go on dates or make new friends I’d see maybe once before losing track of them in the sea of people and busy-ness, where everyone seems to be defined by their job.
I do like the fast-pace of the city— speed walking through the streets in platforms, the ease at which everything is accessible at almost any hour, the hunger for life, but it’s all-consuming. No one has time for anyone and you’re lucky if you see a friend once a month, even if you’re a 20 minute subway ride from them.
It’s not like it’s the easiest to insert yourself into an established friend group that’s embedded into an area of Tahoe, but there seems to be a welcomeness I wasn’t witness to with anyone but my sister in the city. Moreover, there are ample free places in nature to spend time with people. There are also farmers markets and Truckee Thursday and live music and bars where you’re guaranteed to see more than one person you know.
So I came home and I indulged in opening my curtains to the lake every morning and seeing the Milky Way every night. Running into people I worked with in winter and feeling like I could belong here. It felt like I wasn’t meant to find my way in the city because the mountains have always been calling.
And I’m nowhere near settled, but life is finally looking clearer a year after college. And everyone tells me to enjoy this time, to take my time, to cherish getting more time with my parents, no one has it figured out, and it’ll all work out.
So if you’re out there and hundreds of job applications into the search to find your calling, push through, don’t forget to live a little, and acknowledge that self growth is just as much of an accomplishment as work.
Read more about my life and adventures.
