I recently turned 25, and it felt like the world ended. To clarify, this wasn’t a cute, put-on-a-Lana-Del-Rey-album-and-pretty-cry kind of world-ending. I’m talking a full-blown, on the floor of the living room, clutching-my-own-body-in-an-attempt-to-hold-it-in kind of breakdown.
Waking up on my birthday felt like a punch in the face — like my best years were already behind me, like my life was over before it had even started. In a culture that idolizes youth, getting older can feel less like a climb and more like a countdown. Why does it seem like everything is supposed to peak at 22, and why do birthdays start feeling like something we’re trying to outrun?
Welcome to Life After College — are you running out of time? Who even are you? Did you pick the right major? Cue the quarter-life crisis!
The after-grad freefall
In college, your identity and schedule are practically predetermined. Class, study, clubs, sports, sleep, repeat. Not only is your routine laid out for you, but your goals couldn’t be clearer. Take these classes this term, pass them, and move a little closer to that shining star: graduation.
For most of us, college means a four-year plan broken down into quarters or semesters. Each term is divided into tidy 5–12 week chunks, surrounding midterms and finals. You never have to ask yourself, What am I working toward? What matters to me? What’s next? Chances are, you already know what classes you’re taking next term — there’s very little left up to chance.
You’re surrounded by thousands of students your age, all pursuing similar majors, or at least attending the same campus. You hang out on a campus built specifically for you. Maybe you even work on campus, live nearby, or both. You’re immersed in the university’s culture, part of a ready-made community centered around supporting your growth and goals.
You work hard to graduate, and then, quite literally overnight, everything vanishes. Wowza! Talk about whiplash.
When I graduated in the spring of ’21, I flew to Hawaii to spend my first summer as an adult anywhere but back home. Some of my friends moved back in with their parents, some accepted jobs right away, and some ran off to Europe (traveling can be a great side-quest to broaden your perspective!). There’s a sudden scrambling that seems to come out of nowhere — especially considering just weeks earlier we were sitting on someone’s roof, drinking beer, and laughing like we had all the time in the world.
The quiet grief of growing up
There’s an invincibility to youth. You feel like nothing and no one can touch you — the world is an open book, and you can be any character you want. I know it sounds cliché, but when you’re young, you believe in the infinity of all things. One of the quietest tragedies of growing up is how easily we lose that connection — not just to the world but to ourselves.
Think back to who you were at 17. What did you dream about back then? Who were you at 12? How did you see the world when you were eight?
Often, when I practice these reflections, I’m struck by a grief so hollowing it feels like it rips my heart out and hides it away — alongside the childlike version of myself I miss desperately but can no longer find. I want to hold her close to me and let her tell me who she is, because getting older can sometimes feel like forgetting.
Trying to rewrite your identity after college can be a fragile and discouraging process — and honestly, I think that’s okay. It’s okay to feel scared or sad, to be anxious or unsure about what comes next. Fear and anxiety get a bad rap, but they often just mean you’re stepping onto new terrain. It’s unknown. You can’t predict what’s ahead the way you could for the first 20-something years of your life.
Being scared is simply your brain’s way of saying, “We haven’t done this before. I’m not sure what to do. I don’t know what’s safe.” Feeling safe in our lives and bodies is one of the most underrated joys — but as humans, we’re also curious and brave. We want to know what’s around the corner. And graduation? It’s the moment when that distant bend in the road suddenly becomes the turn you’re being catapulted around, whether you’re ready or not.
At this point, if you’re still with me, I know this has been a bit of a bummer. But I can’t emphasize enough how real the grief of change is. We all feel it — heavy on our chests — but we don’t talk about it nearly enough. Death and tragedy aren’t the only things that cause grief. Watching your best friend move across the country, wishing you had slowed down at 19, accepting your first job and realizing it’s not what you hoped — all grief, all valid. But with change also comes new experiences and new joy you didn’t even know existed.
Your first job doesn’t define you
We think we know what makes us happy, but really, we only know what’s made us happy in the past. Only by walking a new path are we even able to discover more of the life we enjoy. Shifting your perspective away from preserving the version of you at 20 and turning your focus to who you could potentially be at 26 or 34 or even 52 reminds you that your life is just getting started.
There are some nuts and bolts, though. That first job after college is another kind of catapult. Many of us land in our first full-time corporate job — I know I did. I had no idea what I was doing. And unless you’re on a path like medicine or a specific trade, your degree may have given you a lot, but the actual skills required for your job are probably new to you.
Maybe the hours suck, maybe you don’t really like your manager, maybe you like your job but it has nothing to do with what you thought you were going to be doing. These small steps can appear to be moving you farther away from the life you thought you’d curate after graduation. Another relieving reminder, though: this is all normal too. Taking that first step after college is, in many ways, your real entry into adulthood — and who gets their first step right? Not many.
The job you have, in my opinion, doesn’t even have to be the most important focus in your life. Instead, move your energy towards your connection to yourself and your passions.
That quiet tragedy I mentioned earlier sneaks up on you. But the truth is, you’re most likely going to have to have a job for most of your life. In order not to lose yourself in the routine and demands of life, you have to keep that childlike spark alive. Your child self knew a lot, much more than you give them credit for. Remembering how you saw the world when you were younger can actually be a golden ticket to a deeper happiness — one that doesn’t depend on LinkedIn or salary negotiations.
During your everyday commute to work, try to look around like you’re visiting. When I first moved to San Diego, I would stare at the palm trees lining the streets in awe when I drove. Having been here almost three years, I don’t notice them as much anymore, but when I’m feeling stuck, I remember to look up. Just admiring the trees helps me remember how I felt when I first moved here — excited and giddy about something as simple as going grocery shopping in the warm summer air.
Go to a coffee shop on your lunch break and buy the cookie you were eyeing while waiting in line. Listen to music while you cook dinner. Wear a weird pair of earrings instead of the gold hoops you instinctively reach for every morning. These may seem small, but they’re quiet acts of self-love — the kind that slowly loosens the grip of everything that’s been weighing you down.
The more I remind myself I can carve out tiny moments of joy and choice in my life, the more doors seem possible to open. Somehow, in an inexplicably human way, buying a cookie makes me feel motivated to work on my book. Wearing brightly colored earrings makes me feel more in control of my life. And staring up at the trees makes me feel excited and grateful for turning 25.
Trusting the process: life, jobs, and everything in between
I don’t know how to put this into perfect words — it’s more of a feeling. A coming home to yourself. Sometimes I wake up and feel the urge to fly back to Hawaii, just to grasp a new perspective. But clarity can be found wherever your feet are. Jobs will come and go. New cities will fade into routine. Birthdays will keep rolling around. But your relationship with yourself can be the thing that grounds you and guides you — if you let it.
This advice may seem a little heady — too vague and feelings-based — I know, I’m sorry. I could have written about how to navigate the job market, tips for starting your career and what to look for — and that’s valuable advice for another day. But no amount of interview prep could have prepared me for the panic I felt waking up on my birthday. That pain was grief’s way of calling me home. A reminder that the years will pass whether you’re present for them or not, and holding onto 22 only robs you of 23, 24, 25, and every future version of yourself that’s waiting for you to show up.
So as much as life after college is about figuring out what’s next — most likely finding a job — it’s also the first time in your life where it’s just you. No counselors, no professors, no coaches. No four-year plan. It’s you and the world, and your curious little self, all grown up in an adult body. How exciting! All the new people you’ll meet, fall in love with, laugh with.
To my relief, at 25 I’m still sitting on rooftops and drinking beer with friends. And I hope it’s something I never grow out of. We talk about our futures where it really does seem like we have all the time in the world. There is no timeline; there’s just life, and the decades and decades of it will unfold in unimaginable ways. I’ve realized I wouldn’t want to trade places with my 21-year-old self. I’ve discovered so much more about myself that I love — and I discover more each day when I choose to pay attention.
In conclusion… kinda
Some down-to-earth advice to close things out: go after the jobs you actually want. The world rarely feels like sunshine and cookies when you’re stuck in a 9–5 that’s draining the life out of you. Take what you can from each job, then move on. Take the pay cut if it means you’ll be happier. Keep working on your art, your side hustle — you can make money doing what you love if you’re willing to work at it.
Happiness in life, from what I’ve discovered at the ripe old age of 25, is a balance. It’s about creating a world within yourself that excites you, while also having difficult conversations and wrestling with the outside world to carve out the space you need to breathe. Bad management can suck the air out of the room — so can being so hard on yourself that you’re paralyzed with shame. Learning to have professional disagreements at work can be empowering and absolutely necessary. So is learning to talk to yourself with kindness and encouragement. Work on both, constantly.
Love yourself, breathe, go out to eat, smoke a cigarette, touch grass, sing, bake a loaf of bread. You’re going to be okay. Life doesn’t stop when you’re 22, or 25, or 75, so it’s best to get comfortable in your own skin. And celebrate yourself — graduating college is a huge accomplishment, and it’s just one of many you haven’t even seen coming yet.
