May is almost here. 

May means graduation and leaving college life behind me. I feel such a colorful melting pot of emotions: excited, with a bittersweet tint and a sprinkle of nerves. 

Senior year is about soaking up the last bit of college life while simultaneously answering the question of what comes next. 

If I had a dollar for every time I said “it’s so surreal,” I may have actually paid off my student loans by now. 

Though I wish I possessed a more expansive vocabulary, “surreal” is the only word that fits the situation. I didn’t think I’d make it through one semester of college; now I’m completing my bachelor’s and moving across the country. 

I accepted a job in Denver despite never having been there. I went during spring break, and after only 24 hours, I knew it was the right choice. 

If I told my 18-year-old self this story, she’d quite literally go into cardiac arrest — by the way, she knows CPR now, too. 

CPR obviously isn’t the only thing I learned. The years between 18 and 22 provided me with a lifetime of lessons gleaned from building a life that is rich in experience, deeply engaging with those in my community and slowly succumbing to uncertainty. 

Uncertainty is still something that irks me. The unknown haunts me. 

So, I’ll start with what I know: a few lessons that my college years have taught me. 

Real adults don’t have it figured out either. 

In high school, I had this separation between the “adult-adults” and myself. I was a lost teen, and they had successfully cracked life’s code. 

Then I started working with a mix of young adults, middle-aged people and older folks. I realized the age-old cliche is true — it’s everyone’s first time living. Some of my most valuable friendships are with those decades older than me, as we offer each other equal amounts of personal wisdom from our unique human experience. 

Don’t wait to feel comfortable. 

Fear prevented me from experiencing the life I truly wanted to live. By waiting until a golden moment where I felt “ready,” I was making my life small. 

First, I walked into a party alone and then, slowly, I did things I wanted solo. I booked a flight to visit friends and stayed in hostels. This was just the beginning. 

Putting myself out there and taking leaps of faith became my personal expectation. I know now that I’ll continue to thrive outside of my comfort zone.  

A glass of water, a shower and a song cure almost everything. 

Whether I’m stuck in my head, overwhelmed or just a little hungover, this trifecta has never failed me. 

The one key is that dancing to the song is entirely necessary. Yes, 2000s rom-com style. Trust me, try it and you won’t be disappointed. 

Listen. 

I spent my first two years of college filling silence with my own voice. I know, that’s a little embarrassing. 

Listening is one of the most powerful things we can do for ourselves and our relationships. Providing your unwavering attention as someone you care about articulates their feelings is so human and utterly priceless. 

Listening is a practice; it takes time, energy and refinement. I’m definitely still working on it.    

Talk with strangers. 

I’ve felt nothing but warmth from five minutes of small talk or exchanging compliments with someone random. Smile, say good morning and talk about how much you love a cafe’s coffee. 

Obviously stay safe, as the world isn’t always kind. But truthfully, strangers are no danger. 

In the connections that really matter, there won’t be resistance. 

I spent so long straining connections that just weren’t sticking. 

Time with those who were meant to stay in my life felt natural, even if I only saw them twice a semester. If we drifted, there were no hard feelings. It just wasn’t meant to be.  

Forgive deeply, but forget not. 

I do allow myself to feel anger or hurt. Then I embrace the person, giving them another chance.

But I don’t forget how they made me feel, and how much it stung. That’s only respectful to myself and the other person because holding someone accountable is more worthwhile than holding a grudge. 

Embrace the unknown. There’s nothing you can do. 

Back to that unknown. Throughout my college years, every unknown evoked this gut-wrenching fear that the pieces wouldn’t fall into place. The worst outcome was all I could think about. 

I wouldn’t get a good dorm. I would get a horrible clinical assignment. I wouldn’t find a job. The imaginary outcomes are endless. 

The weird thing is, everything fell into place even if I couldn’t see it at the time. Stress did nothing to sway the future in one direction or another. 

Now, a mere month out from graduation, I prompt myself to trust the world and all that is unknown. Under a film of anxiety is an enchantment and a wealth of gratitude. 

I’ll go with that.  

XOXO, Olivia.