Excited. Lost. Determined. Three emotions most of us can probably relate to right now.

I’m not one who normally feels compelled to publicly share the chaotic tangled mess of a yarn ball that my brain feels like (hence why I got rid of my Facebook), but maybe some of you can relate to the deeply personal expulsion of word vomit–for lack of a better term, and yes that’s a Mean Girls reference–that is about to ensue.

It’s not often that I feel extremely lost in life. Quitting my job with the Ape Cognition and Conservation Initiative was one of those times, but I knew I would be alright because I would find some menial job while aggressively pursuing grad school or hopping on some African elephant research project. I pushed myself to contact organizations and people in Africa that might accept me as a research assistant, landed on a couple of offers, but was ultimately convinced that a higher education would benefit me and subsequently others the most in the long run.

A telescope pointed at a wall

But now? Completely lost. It’s like I have a telescope that’s been focused on the stars for so long and now that I feel like I’ve finally reached them, it’s been redirected and pointed at a wall. A freaking wall. Not even a nice mural or something with texture. Just a gray-ass wall. I have been working towards this goal of “Get a Masters, go to Africa, save the elephants,” for 15 years and now it’s finally happened and it’s almost over. What the H*CK. Now what?! NOW WHAT, UNIVERSE. Where do I point the telescope now? “Wherever you want, Liz!” And where exactly is that…? I’m just asking, I’m not saying “I can’t answer that” and feeding into negative self-talk, but if I could get a little bit of a hint, that’d be great. I’ll wait. But just know, Universe, that while I’m waiting heavy-breathing and impatient racing thoughts that make my back seize up will be taking over so if you could hurry the f$#% up, that would also be great.

I’ve been filling my free time with self-help books and positive affirmations (even if they are weakly mumbled through tears) that “everything will work out,” (whatever that means). I’m ready to manifest the awesomeness that lies before me and you should be ready too.

Should I take the job?

I’ve applied to over 24 jobs and have received an offer from only one which. I. Declined.

“But Liz, why would you apply if you weren’t going to accept it if they offered?”

Because I’m desperate.

“Apparently not that desperate.”

No, I am. Trust me.

*cue the $93k student loan debt orchestra warming up to the JAWS theme song but instead of a shark, it’s a whole lotta money, and at this point, you’d prefer dealing with a shark over having to pay the government back. In fact, you’re actively rooting for said shark-daydream to absolve you from those stupid loans you signed up for at the astute age of 17.

“So why didn’t you take the $15/hour, seasonal position of working for Applied Ecological Services as a Restoration Field Crew Member in Illinois? “

Because I think I’m starting to stumble upon my worth…Can that be my excuse for not accepting it? Does my higher-self know that something better is just around the corner, or did I just make a mistake? Who knows. Nobody knows. But I declined.

Did I mention my paper and deliverables are in no way completed even though they’re due tomorrow? Who is this procrastinator I’ve become? Where is this mental and creative block coming from? Why is it that I can write another blog post that’s not even required but focusing on all these big projects I’ve known about for months seems near impossible?

Perhaps it’s because if I focus on wrapping up these assignments, I’ll be forced to acknowledge that this goal has been reached and this chapter of my life is therefore permanently and irrevocably over.

Yikes.

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today

Okay, maybe that headline is a bit dramatic. But I need to remember that just because one dream has been fulfilled (and good Lord was it a big one) doesn’t mean I can’t fulfill others…right?

Yet it feels like I’m attending a funeral held inside my head; wearing all black, standing in the rain like a grieving widow as the casket slowly lowers my precious little baby goal into the dark unknown, while I cry out, “Why? Why did you have to go? What am I supposed to do without you?”

Sorry, bereaved Liz. Time to bury it and move on. Figure it out. Create another goal. Accept this as a transition in your life and just move with it. Keep pursuing whatever interests you because you’ll attend numerous mental funerals in your lifetime, but they’ll never overshadow all of your celebrations.

To anyone else in the cohort who may be feeling the same way, I encourage and challenge you (and me) to flip your thinking and view this as an accomplishment and a beginning. It’s not the end of my story or any of ours, it truly is just the beginning. Bring on the next chapter and let’s make it filled with adventure!