Notes From My Twenties

It had been a year since everything shut down, and somehow, I had already graduated a year earlier than I was supposed to. 

I was on such a high, something I had never experienced before. Especially being in the Top 10 in a class I wasn’t even meant to finish. An acceptance from a college I felt proud to say out loud. A fresh start!

For the first time, it felt like everything was lining up. 

My parents were proud of me. I could see it, feel it, and hear it in the way they talked to me about it. And I really held onto that. After spending my life sheltered at home, I was given the space to go to a campus a bit far from home, meet people, and build something of my own. I knew my college life wouldn’t be like the movies or shows I’ve seen, where they party it up every weekend or do crazy things. To me, it felt like the beginning of something. New people, new environments, and a new version of me with a chance to do a lot right. 

I told myself I was going to prove it. Get those good grades and truly succeed, or at least meet my idea of what success looks like. 

For the most part, I believed it. There was just one thing I didn’t really say out loud. I wasn’t so excited about going there for what I was going for. 

Nursing. 

It wasn’t exactly my idea. Yes, it made sense on paper in terms of stability and job security, and I had been told by those around me that it was a good path for me. A safe one. Something my family would be proud of, and the first in my family to do. So I went along with it. 

I read through all the requirements. The classes. The steps I would need to take to get into the program. I signed up for everything I needed to. 

From the outside, I looked like I had everything figured out. Underneath all the excitement, there was a quiet feeling I couldn’t explain. 

I don’t actually believe I could make it. 

I knew I could try. I knew I could work hard, get good grades, and discipline myself as I had before. But this has felt different, almost uncertain. Like I was signing myself up for something I wouldn’t complete. 

I kept telling myself that summer that it was normal to have these feelings. The doubt was part of my adventure. Maybe my first step into adulthood. If I could stay disciplined enough, I would figure it out. 

In my own way of thinking, I saw how clear everything was. I didn’t have to question what I was studying. I didn’t have to explore different paths. The path was laid out. 

Clear, confident, and resolute.

A part of me liked that. I just didn’t realize how hard that path would be.