After five years pursuing an undergraduate degree, five co-op work terms, a double major, double specialization, minor, finally, my degree had come to a close.
Seeing my degree awarded to me on Quest, I felt a sense of ambivalence about this accomplishment. On the surface, wasn’t this what I’d worked for and shouldn’t I be celebrating? I finally completed my bachelor’s degree at UW and was accepted to every master’s program I’d applied to. I made meaningful connections and friendships and learned so much more about who I was and what I cared about at university. Yet completing undergrad felt oddly like bittersweet relief, with an ever deeper undercurrent of grief. For me, perhaps the grief stems from a fear that the following one-year of grad school at UW will go by all too quickly — and I’ll be faced with further changes. Convocation reminds us of the passage of time and sometimes, even with an idea of what kind of career you’d like post-gradation, you might still feel insecurity of what the future holds after your education is complete.
Between two chapters: The struggle of identity and ambiguity
Graduating from any degree is often advertised as a milestone, a celebratory moment. But what happens when you find yourself standing between two thresholds? With my student card no longer working on the GRT, it was clear how quickly my five-year identity as an undergrad student was stripped. No longer an undergraduate student and not yet a graduate student, I feel a sense that I am untethered. Even just a temporary lack of a label, perhaps it should feel like freedom and yet it feels somewhat like drifting when constant structure has become a given for so many of us.
An article from Psychology Today by Rob Danzman, a Nationally Certified Counsellor, touches on the psychological toll of graduating and seeking to make sense of your next step. It describes how so many graduating university students experience a kind of ‘identity crisis’ upon graduating. For those choosing not to pursue graduate school, this hits even harder, as you are immediately thrust into the workplace where the syllabi and assignments of university are no more. He emphasizes that feelings of sadness, anxiety, or just feeling ‘off’ post-graduation are to be expected. After years of structured education, those jumping straight into the workforce are met with a life of “infinite options and zero instructions.”
The ambiguity that follows a long life path of structured education is rarely a simple adjustment. Danzman touches on the very human longing for certainty, or otherwise put, predictability. He adds, “When [graduates] enter this weird liminal space—between the life they’ve known and the one they’re still trying to build—it’s psychologically exhausting.” When the academic pressures along the way to receiving your degree finally end, it can feel overwhelming to find a new kind of pressure waiting; uncertainty.
Further, the article touches on how intertwined our identities can become to a university environment. Danzman describes how a student tends to feel during their undergrad years, “In college, their identity was basically baked in: their major, their friend group, their clubs, their frat, the late-night pizza place that knew their order. They were someone, in a community of someones.”
When convocation ceremonies and bouquets encourage us to view the end of our education as simply ‘moving forward’, we brush over the reality that even the happiest endings can feel like loss. At UW, with each year structured into fall, winter, and spring terms, there’s often an unspoken feeling that even if one term didn’t quite pan out as you’d hoped, there’s a chance to begin anew in the next term. Danzman describes this same feeling as, “The freedom to try stuff without the world watching. The chance to reinvent [yourself] every semester.” The very real loss of routine and familiarity is something we may try to gloss over, behind well-meaning sentiments of moving forward and finding your next big break. Yet, as Danzman suggests, “unprocessed grief doesn’t disappear.” Maybe the permission to give voice to loss can be the first step in processing this ending, in a way that doesn’t pretend to disguise an ending as void of grief.
Danzman acknowledges that while there is no concrete guide to navigating ambiguity post-graduation, he offers some suggestions that may support new grads:
- Normalize the challenge
Rather than avoiding open conversations about how you’re feeling, Danzman encourages grads to recognize that most of their friends are experiencing equally conflicting emotions. In sharing your experiences with others, you just might make connections that can ease this transition.
- Avoid excessive future life planning
Although LinkedIn may make 10-year life plans appear the norm, the truth is that post-grad, focusing on your next step, whether it’s a full-time job, summer job, or preparing for grad school life, is your best option. Focus on what your next smallest step forward is and know your first full-time job or first month as a grad student doesn’t need to be perfect. Trial and error may just allow a broader vision to emerge.
- Develop new routines
During your degree, structure was built-in via class schedules or extracurriculars. Try recreating a similar structure by having set wake-up times and intentionally scheduling workouts or activities.
- Grieve this ending
It’s important to intentionally feel whatever emotions (be it sadness, excitement, or anxiety) that arise post-graduation. Danzman emphasizes acknowledging graduation as a real loss and remembering that it’s only through feeling in the present, that we can move towards the future.
- Make friends with uncertainty
Danzman puts it bluntly; “no one knows what they’re doing.” He adds that especially in one’s 20s, most of us are figuring things out along the way. Use ambiguity as a reminder that the future isn’t limited, meaning so much can be possible.
From convocation to the workplace: Insights from a math graduate
Catherine McCulloch, a recent UW math graduate, shared that it took her eight months of job searching to land a full-time position. After graduating, she began applying more consistently and upon doing so “got a job offer [she] liked in two months.” As of present, McCulloch works at an insurance company, which although not in her field, “is related to what [she] want[s] to do.” She adds that her current job responsibilities don’t make use of what she learned via her degree, but that she hopes to gain more work experience, over time developing a clearer picture of what she wishes to do in her career.
Asked about any challenges transitioning from life as a student to that of a full-time worker, she admits that scheduling appointments or activities during the day was simpler as a student. Due to daytime working hours, she shared “it can be tricky to schedule appointments outside of when I have to be at work.” Otherwise, she enjoys the structure that working the same schedule offers.
As for what’s supported her in successfully adapting to a new routine post-graduation, she credits intentionally scheduling time for friends, exercise, and hobbies as her main supports. She adds that she “still schedules blocks of ‘leisure time’ for [herself] otherwise [she can] get sidetracked with work and doomscrolling.”
Anchoring in the present — and in possibility
Sometimes, considering a different approach towards achievement and success can help us in understanding how we wish to approach further education or a future career, post-graduation.
If you tuned into this year’s Winter Olympic Games, you’d likely have heard of figure skater Alysa Liu. Liu’s riveting program in the women’s single event didn’t just become a gold medal moment for herself, it became a reminder of what can happen when we prioritize our well-being along the path to success.
Liu grew up in the ice rink, her father being the one to push her to pursue the sport. After an entire childhood spent chasing medals, Liu pushed back against the pressures of elite competition and her father’s control. She retired at age 16, seeking to find a more balanced adolescence. In an interview with NBC Sports, she said at the time, “Skating takes up your whole life, almost. I don’t know if other people kind of feel the same when they look back at certain parts of their life, but for me, it’s definitely a blur, because it kind of meshes together, you know — going to the rink, going home, competing.” After skating again during a family trip, Liu found herself missing the sport. This time, however, she set boundaries with her father and coaches, deciding she would be the main decider in her choreography, costumes, meals, and training. Most of all, she didn’t care about her results, she was pursuing skating for herself and her self-expression. This novel approach to skating, one in which her authenticity and self-respect shined, ultimately led Liu to giving the best performance of her career, winning Olympic gold, and inspiring a message of the power of recovery, resilience, and rising above outside pressure. In choosing herself and her joy, Liu reminds us that success doesn’t have to be focused on struggle, it can be centered around our values.
A Forbes article uses Liu’s journey to gold as an example of sustainable performance and suggests some takeaways for professionals that just might support new graduates.
- Distinguish between identity and performance
A powerful reminder for new grads; recognize that who you are isn’t tied to your output. Nick Petrie, a leadership researcher, found that developing identities outside of work can enable a person to work many hours, but not burn out.
Grad takeaway: Liu took her time in developing an identity that wasn’t only linked to being a competitive figure skater. When she returned, winning wasn’t the goal, so pressure lessened, enabling her to reach success with greater ease. As students, recognize you’re more than your academics or your future career and build roles outside of them intentionally.
- Normalize recovery
Petrie’s team also emphasized the idea of an “opposite world.” To be clear, this refers to any activity or outside interest that immerses you in an environment outside of work (or school).
Grad takeaway: To manage the stress of grad school or a career post-grad, identify interests of yours you will intentionally carve time for within your schedule. Over undergrad, for me, swimming at PAC pool became my “opposite world” (that I plan to continue in grad school), reflecting on any existing interests of yours that you can continue as you begin a new chapter.
- Find your ‘why’
Research has shown that intrinsic motivation is composed of connection, challenge, and autonomy. Post-graduation, it can be helpful to consider areas of your life, future career, or graduate school that energize you or where you feel you have choices, while also reflecting on what skills matter to you and what kind of impact or connections you’re developing.
Grad takeaway:
Perhaps another takeaway from Liu’s journey is that sometimes, structure without self-alignment can stifle us in ways we don’t immediately notice. Though it can take time, acknowledging the freedom that follows graduation from our degrees might remind us that like Liu, we can also forge a life path that becomes an authentic representation of who we are, what we value, and what we’ll stand by.
The weight (or possibility) of an invisible future
More than anything, perhaps this transition serves as a reminder that we don’t always need certainty to believe in a possibility. You might not feel hopeful about the future the moment you graduate. You might feel sad or you might worry about becoming who you hope to be. I’m learning that it’s okay to feel afraid. It means this moment matters, it means your life matters. Completing your undergraduate degree remains an accomplishment, even if we don’t feel it the moment we graduate. As Danzman puts it, “Graduation isn’t the finish line—it’s the starting gun to another adventure.”
