Happy September — a month that for a majority of my life I associated with heading back to the classroom, stocking up on school supplies, memorizing my schedule and teacher’s names. It’s a month filled with nostalgia and longing: for the hopeful naivete about the year ahead.

Last year, I remember being paralyzed with this sadness as it was the first year that neither August nor September brought me these familiar feelings, despite the familiar crisp fall air making me feel as though they should be there. I wasn’t sure about what I could look towards because I had shaped what felt like all of my identity around being a student. There was a sudden emptiness to my 9-5 routine — no longer did I feel like I had answers to any of life’s equations, because there was no longer a teacher there to tell me what I was doing right and where I was going wrong. I was directionless – and for a rule follower, like me, this was a deeply disturbing new feeling.

It wasn’t until this August and September came around that I was met with a different emotion: relief. For what felt like the first time since I graduated college, I didn’t want to be a student anymore, and I was happy that I wasn’t heading back to the classroom this fall. And I couldn’t help but wonder: What changed?

And I realized then that for all of my life I had been tying my identity to an outside validator—my teachers, professors, friendships. A chronic people pleaser, I became obsessive about my role in the classroom, needing to bring home a perfect report card, desperate for compliments from every teacher, making sure I did everything right to fit in with friend groups. I looked for myself in others and in the work I produced. 

By senior year of college, my routine felt so robotic. I remember filling my schedule up from 8am until well past midnight, giving myself no time at all to process how I was feeling—what I actually enjoyed about my day and where I was finding real fulfillment. 

So when I graduated, the loss of school hit hard because I felt as though I also lost myself. Who was I, without others to tell me who I was, where I was going next?

I felt like a fully-grown child, discovering how to walk for the first time without anyone to hold my hand if I toppled over. I felt stupid, to be 22 years old and yet to be so unsure of who I was and what role I played in life. When I received small compliments from my boss—good job, well done, nice email—I was so frustrated, because where were the paragraphs of feedback? How can I do better, be better, what am I doing wrong, what specifically impressed you? 

And yet, day-by-day, little-by-little, I took small efforts to help myself feel better. Decisions that I made, by myself, without anyone telling me what they thought about them. I got my first-ever therapist, something I had been putting off since I was little because I “never had the time.” I decided I wanted to be in New York, rented my first-ever apartment, and stopped caring obsessively over feedback from my job (okay, still working on this but getting there). I started a blog (hey, readers!), and fell in love with writing all over again, feeling like a giddy little girl writing long emails to her best friend without a care in the world about what people thought of her or how she chose to express herself. 

With each big decision I made on my own, I became less scared to exist on my own. More sure of my capabilities. And suddenly a whole lot more time to think about who I am, what I enjoy, and what makes me happy. Instead of feeling plagued down by the monotony of a 9-5, this routine opened up possibilities for me, not needing to sit down after a day of work and worry incessantly about all of the homework I needed to do. 

I write all of this neither to bash my education nor to bash those who choose to continue in theirs. After just finishing the memoir Educated, I feel all the more grateful to have been gifted over two decades of learning. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

Rather, I write this to offer a source of support for people like me who may have felt this way in school. Allow yourself the time and space to focus on what you want—not what others tell you is right. Explore new subjects, sit more with the questions, and worry less about the results. ❤