God, I Miss my Mates: Post Graduate Nostalgia and Reconnecting After University
Many of us head off to university bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready for a 3 year (or longer) final stint in education and raring to go full speed ahead into adulthood. What many of us don’t realise is just how quickly those academic years will speed by, along with the endless opportunities this unique experience gives in throwing new people into our path. Today’s submission from the lovely Abi shares her story of graduation and the loss of structure that university cradles us in for those both long and short 3 years …
“I miss my mates. It’s been almost a year and a half now since I’ve graduated university and don’t get me wrong, I’ve met and reconnected with some wonderful people this year, but God, I miss my uni mates. I miss my course mates, my mates’ mates, my boyfriend’s mates, and even those who have long since unfollowed me on Instagram and unfriended me on Facebook after graduation.
Of course, I know my friends haven’t truly disappeared and we’re living in an age where it’s easier than ever to communicate with each other – texting, Facetime, Instagram, Twitter; the list is endless. Yet still, it’s just not the same – going from seeing people on a daily basis to being miles and miles apart with only social media to communicate with just isn’t comparable. Social media is a great tool for connecting with friends, but somehow this constant vague, untargeted communication of tweets and public stories makes it all the while harder to see the point of bothering to send someone a personal, direct message to update them on your life. Making conversation over text can be tricky; it’s hard to go beyond sending the occasional Spotify screenshot, meme, and the expected annual happy birthday message. Especially if you’re someone who’s worried that forcing such conversation on people is awkward or an invasion of privacy.
If you haven’t seen someone in a few months there’s always a hovering pressure to have something to ‘update’ them with. Something that only gets trickier the longer you leave it. Reuniting with someone you haven’t seen in a year seems like a big deal. You feel expected to have some fantastic news about career progression or thrilling stories about travelling, as if to say, ‘I’m thriving, I didn’t peak at university – promise!’. Three years at University are years all leading towards something supposedly spectacular; graduation and a degree. A certificate that’s a key to the world. Once you get this degree, you’re (meant to be) able to land a fantastic job and be on your way to your ideal career – preferably in the same realm as your degree. So, if you aren’t exactly shooting for the stars and haven’t landed your dream job at age 22 – which to be honest, most of us haven’t – you can feel a little lost in what you’re meant to say when you’re asked ‘So, what have you been up to?’.
“Graduating is difficult, it gets easier as time goes on but it’s hard to give up such a rigid and reliable structure. With university, you get a sense of fulfilment every time you get a decent grade or complete a project. You get told what to focus your assignments on, and every Tuesday and Thursday are rigidly set as nights to go out and socialise.”
I’m incredibly grateful to be still in regular contact with a number of my university friends. But yet, group chats and a distance of a few hundred miles are not quite the same as coming home through the door after a long day of lectures to find that your flatmates are halfway through pre-drinks, they’ve started a spontaneous DIY S.O.S competition, or even just coming home to someone waiting for a sporadic trip to the 24-hour Tesco (something that’s much more thrilling that it sounds on paper!). It’s not just a matter of missing your mates – I know they’re only a message or call away – it’s a matter of missing the context I used to know them in, being in such close-range of their presence that we never have to ‘try’ to pick up where we left off. Something that I know we’ll never get back.
Graduating is difficult, it gets easier as time goes on but it’s hard to give up such a rigid and reliable structure. With university, you get a sense of fulfilment every time you get a decent grade or complete a project. You get told what to focus your assignments on, and every Tuesday and Thursday are rigidly set as nights to go out and socialise. I understand this comes from a place of privilege; a lot of people hate their time at university. But if you’re lucky enough to love academia as much as I do, then you probably grew to think of the rigid structure of development and feedback at university as a straightforward path to success.
Once that firm structure of reliability and sense of achievement is stripped away, you’re left with the real world (which is unfortunately a lot less structured than uni). And if you’re someone like me, who thrives off structure, feedback and being told exactly what to do, this can come as a bit of a shock. The ‘big wide world’ is less so exciting and prosperous, but more intimidating, looming and lonely. There’s almost too much choice if anything. It turns into a race of ‘which path will give me the most instant gratification and brownie points showcasing that I’ve done something worthwhile’. At uni (or from my experience), you almost get to put off thinking about a plan – your three-year course is your plan! Once you’re out the other side, your achievement of a degree will sort everything else out for you, or so you hoped.
If you feel like you’ve had the rug pulled out from under your feet in terms of success – and if you’re someone who bases their self-worth off of their work output – you can find it tricky to ‘reconnect’ with those you miss so dearly. You don’t even know how to start without feeling somewhat embarrassed. Its an absolutely ridiculous stance and not one I would ever encourage, but one that’s easy to slip into if you’ve just spent three years basing your entire self-worth on a graded number.
Reconnection is hard,
but not as hard as you think. At the end of the day, who cares? Who cares if you haven’t yet got that sparkling grad job everyone is chasing after? Who cares if you’re not yet what you want to be in life – who exactly is? Who cares if you haven’t spoken in months and conversation feels forced – surely the fact you’re trying now is enough? The idea you have to be constantly ‘evolving’ and proving yourself to be more and more interesting (one that is unfortunately promoted a lot at university) is insanely toxic and breeds nothing but shame.
God, I do miss my mates, but I also know that I don’t have to miss my mates. Double texting and continuously trying to pluck conversation out of thin air might be awkward at first, but those who truly love you will never really care if it is.”
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Thank you so much to the brilliant Abi for contributing this piece! You can find her on Instagram and Twitter at @nottooabi or read more of her work at www.abigailaherne.contently.com.