So I graduated college. My first instinct is to figure out the next adventure, but instead I’ve let myself be bored and think about my life.
I’m proud of myself. At fourteen, my biggest goal was to find a solution to my bloody noses and beat Paper Mario. Who knew a year later I would submit an $8000 scholarship application to be a foreign exchange student in Europe? At sixteen, I left my family and lived in Germany for a year studying at a German gymnasium and living with a host family. At seventeen, I was the editor-in-chief of my high school newspaper. When I was nineteen years old, I married a fabulous, loving man. At twenty, I spent a semester interning at the Schleswig-Holstein Governor’s Office of Coordination and Planning where I met a handful of terrific people. I became an expert in the strengths and weaknesses of minority policies in Germany and America.
I took on challenging jobs like campus news writer, instructional designer, managing editor of the College of Science magazine, and German speaker for the church’s Europe team. I read and wrote essays about Kafka, Hesse, Thomas Mann, Goethe, and Nietzsche–all of it in German. I presented my research on the Nazis and the “Degenerate Art Exhibition.” I won the German Department’s $800 scholarship as well as the one-year tuition scholarship from the Department of Languages and Literature. I worked with kind and brilliant professors who encouraged me to move forward with German and were more than willing to meet me when I struggled with assignments.
Yes, I also threw up at Zupas once. I kicked a dude out of my group project. I stormed out of the house when marriage as a 19-year-old was pissing me off. I sat on the shower floor and bawled a few times. I laughed when my co-worker in Germany told me his friend died because I didn’t understand. I said coño instead of cono in Mexico. I asked two women of the same age if one of them was the other’s daughter. I sold shoes and hated my life. I went to group therapy for anxiety on campus. My grandparents caught me making out with Spencer when we were dating. I embarrassed myself constantly.
I’m proud of all of the things I have accomplished and I’m proud I did them while struggling with anxiety and depression. I’m proud of my unique college experience and that I used all of my resources to make it fantastic. I’m proud of the family Spencer and I have become. And I know that all of these opportunities were made real because of my loving God.
So no, I’m not going to worry right now about the next thing. I’m going to watch Fringe and eat Reese’s peanut butter malts, and drive to national parks with Spencer, and shop online, and watercolor, and write in my journal, and sleep until noon.