7 Stages of Post-Grad Grief
So you’ve just finished your final summer of freedom as a college graduate. You’ve done you final farewells with all of your friends by having a ridiculous number of grad parties and vacations. You may have even partied and shopped your way through Europe thanks to mom and dad and their impeccable taste in graduation gifts. But then one day you look around and the summer is coming to an end and you begin to realize what awaits you. It’s last call betch. The party is over, and it’s time to face the real world.
Shock: OMG. It’s over. It’s really over. No socials, no mixers, no more formals, not even a semi. It’s all gone. All of your costumes for theme parties are too sluty for adult life, and norts are only acceptable when you’re, you know, actually working out. And you won’t be able to see your Little. She’ll be too busy at mixers, socials, and having fun to be concerned with you and your life. You’re basically a senior citizen. This is the worst day of your life. Dear God, why?!?!?
Denial: Wait, what?! There is no way this is happening. The fun just started. No more classes to skip, no more papers to write at 6am the day they’re due, no more scrambling to find adderal during finals week. The stress is over. It’s just one big blackout rager from now on. Right?
Anger: I hate everything. Why did no one tell me about this? No one said the real world sucked this much. This is my parents’ fault. They made me this way. They told me I had to graduate. I mean what the fuck is a communications degree anyway? I don’t even know what job you get with this. Talking? One time a guy bought me a drink just so I’d stop talking. At least I have my credit ca… Shit, it expires in 6 months. I’m royally screwed.
Bargaining: No, I’m not. I can extend the fun. I’ll get a minor in something. I’ll get a minor in dance or something useless like that. It will make me really skinny. And I’ll become active in the chapter again and all will be right with the world. Except then I’ll be old and pathetic. I could try and convince some guy to marry me, but that requires commitment and all the boredom that comes with it. There’s work. Ew.
Guilt: I did this to myself. I could have taken that internship but turned it down because “party girls don’t wake before happy hour!” Instead of going to class I went to the bar. My only special skills include…well, I shouldn’t put them on a resume. I’m such an idiot! I didn’t even see the end coming. I must have blacked out when I was walking towards the light. I didn’t appreciate the glory of college until it was all over, and now it’s gone forever.
Depression: I am never leaving this bed. I’m just going to lay here until I turn 24 and die of old age. The party is over, kid and you aren’t on the guest list for next week. Don’t even bother putting on mascara because you’ll put it on, look at your old ass in the mirror and cry, because you’ll never be as young and fun and adorably drunk as you once were. Vodka is my only friend. Damn it, it’s empty.
Acceptance: Well I have to go to the store if I want more liquor and that requires leaving the house. Guess I have to get dressed. Oh this dress is cute and I haven’t worn it yet. I have to fix my hair and makeup, otherwise the dress doesn’t matter. Wait, what the hell was I saying, I’m a regulation hottie. Totally aging gracefully. I’ll figure it out. I can look into grad school and postpone the big girl job and just ease my way into the real world. Sounds like a good plan. Yay me!!
Wow, that was a really emotional 10 minutes.