The Anxieties of the Unaffiliated
I became a Post Grad in literature not too long ago. At the time, I was not anticipating a quarter-life crisis. But six months into not being part of an institution, I am, like a few others in my peer group, barely managing to feel comfortable with this state of unfunded freedom. Two weeks after graduating, I saw that two of my acquaintances enrolled into PhD programs at two of our country’s top schools. LinkedIn keeps bringing up pictures of people standing in front of their dream companies with a bag of their supplies- company themed bottle, bag, book, pen, and of course the latest addition matching our era’s theme, a pulse oximeter.
In the span of these six months, friends kept getting into top jobs, schools and fellowships while my life kept taking wild turns that I couldn’t have possibly imagined. None so bad that I couldn’t keep my head up but difficult nonetheless. Friends managed high budget vacations, celebrated new achievements. And here I was with a few others, trudging along roads that lead to dead-ends.
Anything I wrote as part of the PhD application process felt uninventive and commonplace. My mediocrity seemed to strike me as an irrefutable fact. The problem was not that I was unwillingly without a job. It was not how competitive and harsh the world seemed to be. I could accept all of that.
The problem was that I failed. I applied to three different universities, only to get shortlisted by one and eventually be rejected from all three. This bothered me no end. Don’t get me wrong. I pride myself on my ability to gracefully accept bad endings. But lights turned red once or twice over the span of a year or two. A series of rejections back to back was quite the blow to my self-esteem. In the process of getting bitter at myself and at everyone else’s success, I did what anyone else would do. I resorted to justifications.
I tipped my hat with a smile to those who succeeded and made sure that the people who knew about my failure and their success, knew the difference.
They had been working hard on this for a long time! Bless their souls. I just started a week ago.
Not true. I got rejected despite the effort I put in. I guess what had been bothering me all this while were the “despites” and “yets” and “even thoughs”. Despite having worked significantly on my applications, I failed and yet I seem to learn nothing even though I should be improving. As I embarrassingly flipped through my huge spiral-bound book completely scribbled with notes, I asked the question, “Am I bad?”
Once you are no longer a part of the comforting structure of an institution, you discover a space that is choked with the anxieties of the unaffiliated. It is raw, truthful and will force you to drop any acts of wisdom and grown-upness you thought you had. You can sit still but you are never truly free. Because no certificates await you, no allowances will fall into your bank account at the end of the month and you cannot consistently vent to another friend going through the same, because eventually, they will make it too.
Despite the rejections, I find it hard to anticipate them. Every time I give an interview, my stubborn, hopeful heart tells me I will make it, that I’m good enough and that someone will be bold enough to take a chance on me.
I do not know if my dreams will be realized but I do know that eventually, everyone makes it. Maybe not exactly the way we saw things falling in place for us. But in ridiculously charming ways we could have never seen coming, we will make it. Of course the order of who makes it when still irks my ego but it is mildly comforting knowing this truth.
But for now, I will indulge in self-pity, watch Netflix with a lot of guilt, and take up several things at once to drop them halfway. For now, I will keep doing all the wrong things till I learn how to set them right.
