A college friend of mine and a talented photographer/badass Doctor-to-be, Lauren Rakes, took this picture the spring of my senior year in college. The picture was taken at my very specific request and as soon as she turned the camera around to show me, I cried. I am obviously in my regalia, ready to walk across the stage, shake some hands that I don’t know, and receive my long-awaited diploma. I am also wearing my grandfather’s St. Christopher pendant that he wore until the day he went to the hospital before he died. It says, “Behold St. Christopher, and go your way in safety.” A proud Christian, he wore it as a religious symbol, but when I became the owner of the piece, its meaning began to take a new shape. In my mind now, it still signifies a journey. To me personally, it represents the end of one journey and the beginning of another. I chose to wear it for these pictures because as far as material things go, it is my most prized possession. I also knew the picture would be really special to my dad, which is part of why I did it. Sappy, I know. This is why I’m the favorite child.
The picture exemplifies the paradox I felt that semester: the triumph of some very difficult things countered by the exciting things yet to come. I chose that particular line from The Greatest Showman to put on my graduation cap because I thought it was clever and cute. It was a little nod to pop culture at the time (I’m usually bad at that) and it summed up my college career, as I was a less-than-stellar student. There were a lot of times many people, myself included, didn’t think I could make it because I was a depressed lump of a human who definitely did not write a good paper or test well. Regardless, I scraped by and set out to document the occasion. I did my hair and makeup to perfection and took my graduation pictures on the most beautiful campus in the world.
It was a strange feeling. That semester was a weird one, all things considered. I wasn’t speaking to some of my best friends and I did a remarkable job of isolating myself from the people that mattered most. I was extremely emotional about leaving the life I had worked so hard to create, much less leave it for the unknown. At that time, my future was not entirely concrete and if you know anything about me, you know I’m a planner. I do not wing things (aside from my Instagram stories and things I try to bake) and I am meticulous (anxious?) about every detail. College was a glorious disaster full of the unexpected and when I graduated, I thought I conquered the beast.
And then I hit graduate school. And working full-time while going to school full-time. And navigating the world without the support system I had found in college. And losing so many parts of myself and finding so many more. When I graduated college, I breathed a giant sigh of relief. When I exhaled, I let out every bad feeling I had been holding back in order to survive. I don’t really know how to describe it other than “hot mess”. I flirted with a slew of mental health problems that I incessantly tried to address but I didn’t get anywhere for quite some time. I went through a couple of comically bad relationships and had a little taste of heartbreak. Later, I received what I consider to be a life-saving treatment for those aforementioned mental health problems and I met my favorite person in the whole world that I get to have by my side. So, all in all, a roller coaster.
Long story short, I’m trying to say I’m done with grad school. It’s finished, I graduated, I survived. Graduation from grad school is a little different, obviously. Life looks a lot different than it did when I graduated undergrad, even though not much time has passed at all. I’m an actual adult now and I certainly was not then. I have a future, one I worked really hard to create. I don’t want to say it’s not a big deal because it definitely is, but it seems like it’s not a big deal. First off, it got cancelled. I know there are way bigger issues, but I’m still bummed out about it. I was excited to get a little break and celebrate, but now just isn’t the time. People are dying and this moment of quiet triumph is happening during a time that is so heartbreaking for many, many people. I am preoccupied with mourning with the rest of the world, but I also want to take a minute to be proud of myself.
I finished the thing I really thought I wouldn’t. I got through many an all-nighter, I survived many tears at my kitchen table and even more in my office at work. I went through a twisted, invaluable, sleepless journey that I never thought I could navigate. I try to include a little call to action in a lot of my writing, so here it is: take this as a sign that you can do that thing you think you can’t. I swear to you, I never thought I could do any of the things I have done in the past two years. To be a little cliched and storybook, one journey has ended, I owned it, and the best journey yet is most certainly beginning. I hope you find yours too, and I hope you go your way in safety.
Cheers to the last 99 days, and on we go to the next (as Alison Roepke, MPH!!!).
