Friday 6 September 2019
Reality check
" '...Tell me, are you a real writer?'
'It depends what you mean by real.'
I’m having one of those throwback to naïve little me moments. Three years ago, I was frantically reading Jane Eyre for the beginning of my English Literature and Creative Writing degree in Newcastle. I remember forcing myself to get through the pages and thinking that I would never get this book read in time for my first seminar. Three years and an undergraduate degree on, I can proudly say I picked up the skill of skim reading at speed - three books a week you say? Pfft, no problem.
I also remember convincing myself all this hard work would be worth it in the end. I’d walk out with a degree, my dream job (hi vogue!) and a self-assurance that I could do anything. Oh, Holly.
2019 has ended up being a go go go year with little time to come up for air. As an undergraduate, you end up resembling a juggler. You’re a stay-at-home artist perfecting your show; you’re a street performer showcasing your talent. Then, suddenly, you’re competing on the main stage, trying to convince your audience you’re juggling more responsibilities than everyone else.
The truth is, no one tells you about the stresses third year brings. You’re feeling relaxed, scatty even (see my post from the beginning of third year) – lulled into a false sense of security when BOOM: ‘I’ve just been offered an interview on Thursday.’
Hold up – people were already job hunting??? Throw into the mix internships, networking, CV writing and you can be feeling pretty behind, pretty quick. More research informed me that people had reigned in their garish Instagram posts of them holding several drinks in their hand in obscure rave caves and had substituted it for neutral palettes of sunsets setting on San Sebastian’s streets.
Yet this culture of comparison can lead to unhealthy self-doubt. I have to remind myself that, yes, other people have secured jobs but I haven’t exactly been taking a back seat either. Whilst I may have taken a break from my blog, I’m now a confident Lifestyle Editor capable of using complex software (notice I've even given the blog a lil makeover). I’ve written for several publications now – something first-year me would’ve been impressed at. And I’m now (excitedly) preparing to start my International Multimedia and Journalism Master’s degree in just a couple of weeks – something I hadn’t even considered a year ago. Perspective.
In perhaps what others would call ‘escaping reality’, I spent my summer at Blue Star Camps in North Carolina again. Up in the fresh mountain air and away from academic work, you could be mistaken for thinking I opted for the carefree summer one craves after graduating. Instead, I endured a challenging 3 months caring for 65 campers and 10 staff. Phew.That’s a lot of names to remember.
Although I had a few wobbly moments – ‘I feel like my friends are getting ahead in the real world’, ‘no one will see this as a proper job’ blah blah – my Dad reminded me over the phone of the level of responsibility I was undertaking:
“What other job would give you that much authority at this age? You’re a manager.” (See below picture for my managerial headshot...)
Although it can feel good to be on the achieving end, I think it’s still important to recognise that our twenties aren’t always going to be the go go go. I know friends that have hit the post-Uni downer when applying to jobs and not hearing anything back. I also have friends who’ve been slogging away for years and are working their way well up the ladder. Friends that are getting married; friends that are travelling; friends that have their shit together; friends that don’t. Isn’t it time we just accept that our twenties are the rollercoaster years?
Whilst I’m all for this ‘you do you’ freedom, it’s loaded with a burden to have your own image, an Instagram profile that’s more like a sales pitch, an answer to the question: ‘who are you?’.
There’s so much pressure to have it all together at 21 – be professional, have a profession, profess what you’re passionate about. It all seems big, in your face, daunting if you’re not quite there. But sometimes, we forget about this thing called perspective. We forget that sometimes, it’s more than okay if the next big thing is lots of little things.
