Separation anxiety
Illustration: Scott Drummond
Coming to college was scary leaving is even scarier.
By Lindsay Kiliper, Jayplay writer
As graduation approaches, I have picked up the habit of pulling quotes out of magazines that all boil down to the idea of living solely for today. But with the stress that comes with a diploma, is it possible to live for today without having a panic attack?
My anxiety comes from big questions: Where will I be next year? What will I be doing with my life? What if I make the wrong choice and it negatively affects the next five years? How will I make a difference in the way I want?
I felt a similar churning in my stomach the first time I pulled up to GSP Hall four years ago ready to embark on my freshman year. After my parents and I unloaded my computer, mini fridge, clothes and many boxes full of pictures of high-school friends, I searched for the nearest Kleenex and said goodbye. I didn't know how to get to Massachusetts Street or where the closest McDonald's was not to mention I didn't know more than five people in Lawrence. My anxiety eased after I made some trusting friends and fell in love with Chipotle, drinking beer on Thursdays and not having a curfew. However it took awhile for all the benefits of a college lifestyle and my own determination to fully subdue the fear that occasionally crept up on me at night. After months, I'd still find myself lying in bed, curled on top of my squeaky metal loft, hiding my wet face in my T-shirt sheets and listening to the unfamiliar heavy breathing of my new roommate.
Now, four years later, my stomach is again getting tied into knots. Maybe it's because for the first time I won't have a classroom to fall back on. I'll be on my
own emotionally and financially. The prospect of freedom is exciting but also terrifying. I have nothing to hold me back. I can do anything, and I can go anywhere. It is my turn to make my mark.
I began fretting in November when I realized I needed to start figuring out what I would do next year. Practically everybody I said “hello” to asked the same questions: “Do you have a job yet?” “What are you doing next year?” Professors, friends, family and even the annoying guy at the Hawk yelling over Nelly’s “Shake Your Tail Feather” all seemed intent on finding out what I planned to do after graduation. And it wasn’t just the questions. It was the books. Piled on my bed were books from my parents and advisers with such tantalizing titles as How to Get a Job: Tips for Interviewing. Every morning I'd awake to the sight of these books, which would jolt my nerves instead of inspiring me. It's not just having to find a job that's getting to me either. It's coping with the prospect of starting a new life.
After spilling my fears to a professor, she looked straight at me and said, "Lindsay, life is a journey, not a destination." A cliché, yes, but one that suddenly makes sense. I have to take this transition from college to life after college one day at a time. I made it through freshman year, and I'll make it through this next big change. While this advice hasn't erased my anxiety, it's making it easier to handle. Even with my stomach in knots, I can live for today.
— Lindsay Kiliper can be reached at kiliper@kansan.com.
4.29.04 Jayplay
15