Blog Post: The Indescribable Fear of the Unknown

There’s an indescribable fear at the end of your final school year. = You’ve spent all this time studying, writing, researching, and partying, and now it’s time to figure out the next thing in your life. Time to no longer live in this unique thing called university and community and go spread your own wings in a new place. Don’t forget that everyone around you keeps asking what your next step is. Do you have a job? Where are you moving? You’re going back home? What are you going to do there? What’s your plan? Do you have a plan? You have a plan, right?

I don’t.

Really.

I don’t have the slightest clue what’s next except to move back in with the family after living alone for two years. I could go back to my old retail job where I was literally two steps away from becoming an assistant manager. That’s a great (kind of) back up plan that is always there, even if I hate the new management. They don’t have to know I miss the old managers, they just have to give me hours for my paycheck, right? That’s safe. That’s easy.

It's not what I really want to do, though.

I feel myself drifting back to those conversations with people telling me to have a backup plan in case English or writing doesn’t work out (I’m an English major with a Professional Writing Minor, by the way). I feel myself drifting to that conversation with a friend who told me that if I wanted to teach with my English degree, I also needed certifications for that. Then I drift to every other panicked what-if I imagined in bed, because I don’t know what’s next, but I know what I want to do.

I want to edit. I’ve lost that powerful passion I once had for writing, but I’ve found a powerful passion in editing that I really want to pursue. I love looking at people’s writing and seeing how I can help them improve it. I love catching the little mistakes that get left behind by accident, the little typos and the misplaced commas. I love seeing how differently people write. I love talking with writers, trying to get their writing as perfect as possible with whatever limitations we have.

I just… love pointing things out like the nerd I am.

Which, while being nerdy may have some crossovers with being bossy and nitpicky in retail, it doesn’t really have a whole lot more in common between the two. So that means I need to figure something else out. And that’s absolutely horrifying.

What if I don’t figure it out? What if I live at home for the next twenty years and suddenly I live in the tiny central-coast town that no one knows about except that it has a prison and it’s by what used to be Vandenberg Air Force Base, but it’s now a Space Force Base (I hate it), and then I’m rambling in a panic because I don’t know what to do.

Is this at all similar to your own situation? Great. Glad I’m not alone, I guess.

And if it isn’t, good for you. I say that entirely without sarcasm—I’m glad you have this figured out. Someone has to figure out their stuff. It balances the world, probably. Or something like that.

But for those of us who are still figuring it out, I have some good news. It depends on your definition of good, actually, but for me it’s good news:

Life goes on—life finds a way.

The best example I have of this is my older sister. She moved to Los Angeles when I was eight and she was eighteen (for context I am now twenty-five and she is thirty-five). I don’t really remember why she moved, but I think it had something to do with dancing. We grew up in a dance family, and I remember traveling at least two or three different times for my sister’s dance competitions. Don’t remember if she won any, but I know she competed, which means it makes sense if she moved to LA for dance.

I don’t think she got into dance right away. I think she got a job at Best Buy. And In-n-Out. And Carmax. She also did something for Vita coco at some point, and I really miss the boxes of coconut water I used to get. Then there was that acting phase where she did get a role in a… Wendy’s? commercial. I don’t really remember anymore (sorry sis, it’s not you, it’s my memory). She got back into dance at some point. I remember driving down with my parents to see her perform. She worked really hard for a while on that. I remember hearing her talk to my mom on the phone about it. She sounded so excited and like that was her plan!

(I’d also like to mention she had a brief college stint before dropping out. I am the only child of four that is finishing university. Just a humble brag, don’t mind me.)

Anyway, all this rambling to tell you that she isn’t dancing. She isn’t acting, she isn’t selling cars, electronics, burgers, or coconut water. In fact, I’m not really sure what she does, but I know she worked her butt off to get a certification that got her a job which she’s had for three or more years now. She’s working remote, which means her handsome rottie gets all the attention he needs , and she’s been at this job long enough that I think this is her main plan for now. She’s on her own again and even back in our home town so she’s closer to our parents.

It took her over a decade to figure that out. She changed her mind more times than I can remember (I probably just didn’t listen to her talk), and she is an inspiration for me when I’m lying in bed panicking about the future. Because she found a way. She kept going even when things weren’t going exactly how she pictured and she found a way.

It doesn’t make the fear go away, certainly not, but it makes me feel better about looking for something related to my passions. To me, her story says I should pursue my passion as long as I possibly can. See what comes from  it and go from there. Maybe I’ll find that I really do want to continue editing, maybe I’ll find my passion for writing again, or maybe I’ll find that I actually do love customers and retail (Please, God, don’t let that happen). What matters is that I try, and I find a way even in the midst of the indescribable fear that is the unknown.

It may not be a perfect journey. It may not be what I think I want. It may not make sense in the moment, but from what I’ve seen with my sister, something will happen that eventually does make sense. And I just have to keep putting one step in front of the other until I find it.

So, all that ceaseless rambling to say:

Life goes on—life finds a way—so will I.