There’s so much going on in the world right now that makes my heart ache. Today’s blog post is about the things I’ve learned in my first year of post-grad life, but I would be remiss if I didn’t first share a few words about George Floyd. I’m still processing all of the recent events, but I think it’s important to bring attention to the injustice of George Floyd’s death and the injustice that people of color face every day.  I know I can never fully understand what it’s like to be a minority in the United States, and that my words here will inevitably fall short of the empathy and support that I want to convey, but I believe that speaking up imperfectly is far better than staying silent. If we’re silent, we’re complicit in prejudice, racism, and violence against our fellow man.

I have lots of room to learn and improve when it comes to being an ally, and I hope you will join me in this growth. If you’re looking for a place to start, I recommend watching this video and considering your own privilege. You can find other anti-racism resources here. 

The other group that’s been on my mind recently, and that I’ve had time to process my thoughts and feelings about over the past few months, is the class of 2020.

A little over a year ago, I graduated from college in much different circumstances than the class of 2020. I was fortunate to experience all of the iconic graduation moments you think of: the last day of class, the playing of ‘Pomp and Circumstance,’ moving my tassel from right to left, and saying goodbye to friends as we moved out of our college town one-by-one.

I knew my next step. I would move to Washington, DC, my dream city, to complete a fellowship at a renowned public relations agency. At the time, the uncertainty of whether that fellowship would turn into a full-time job gnawed at me, but I knew there was nowhere to go but forward.

In comparison to the class of 2020, many of whom have rescinded job offers or few employment prospects at all, my passage into the working world was seamless. Job hunting and the transition from college kid to young adult is difficult in normal circumstances, and I can only imagine what it’s like in the midst of a global pandemic and the highest unemployment rate since the Great Depression.

I wish I had words that would somehow make it all better, that would provide comfort in an exceedingly difficult situation. I don’t. All I have are the lessons I learned in my first year of life after college. Carry the bits that resonate with you, and disregard those that don’t.

It’s okay if things take time.

In all likelihood, you’re not going to have your dream job and be making six figures fresh out of college. By the same token, odds are that you’ll be living in a tiny apartment rather than a lavish house. You don’t have to have everything figured out. You may not even know what your dream job is or where you want to live long-term. That’s okay. 

I’m not saying that your twenties are a playground of self-exploration free of consequence. Reading The Defining Decade opened my eyes to the reality that the choices we make in our twenties—yes, even our early twenties— have ramifications for the rest of our lives. 

The important thing is not to have it all figured out (because who does, ever?) or have already arrived at your ideal job, your ideal house, your ideal life, but to take steps toward the life you want to build. 

Your peers will be in various life stages.

Gone are the days when you and your friends were on the same set track: go to high school, get accepted to college, go to college, graduate. After college, the options are disparate. Your peers will fan out across the country and even the world. It will become increasingly apparent the different life stages people are in, despite their closeness in age. I have 23-year-old friends who still go out four nights a week. I also have 23-year-old friends who are married and own a home. 

When you start to notice this phenomenon, it will be tempting to compare yourself to both extremes. In all honestly, there have been moments in the past year when I’ve felt behind after hearing someone’s salary or scrolling through a seemingly endless reel of engagement photos on Instagram. At other points, I’ve wondered if I’ve wasted my youth because I jumped into my career instead of taking a gap year to backpack or otherwise explore. 

After these twinges of comparison pass, I’m reminded that I’ve made the decisions that are right for me. They may not parallel the decisions my peers have made, but that’s the beauty of it. We all get to carve out our own paths and choose our own lives.

Have an identity outside of work.

Work consumes many of our waking hours, so it’s easy to become wrapped up in it. In the first six months of my job, I found myself thinking about work long after I clocked out. The fixation detracted from the personal time I could have spent resting, relaxing, and enjoying life, and it left me feeling incredibly anxious. 

Once I gave myself permission to “turn off” after I left the office (or signed off, as it goes these days) and prioritized my identity outside of work, my mental health improved. My joy levels increased. My life felt fuller.

One of the best pieces of advice I can offer is to have an identity outside of work. Have hobbies. Spend time with your loved ones. Find things that make you happy that are completely unrelated to your job.

If you find it hard to turn off work mode like I did, I highly recommend Headspace’s Reset and End of Day guided meditations.