It’s been four days since I handed in my thesis and it’s still all a bit surreal. I’m still coming to the terms with the fact that after 18 years of education, I am no longer a student – well, at least, until I’m about 30 and decide to do my PhD. It’s been strange coming home from work and not having the pressure to do that next assignment, or to study for that exam. Of course, I have projects of my own that I want to do (and I’ve started already!), and applications to write, all of that fun stuff. But those are self imposed (to an extent), and I’m able to pick and choose.
I’ve convinced myself that I’ll be happy with a second class A, even though I know my parents (mainly mum) won’t be impressed with anything less than a first class. But I look back on the year and I have to remind myself that I was accepted for a whole heap of publications, I worked full time, got really sick three times, and made a bunch of amazing connections courtesy of my time at BWF this year. I’ve learned so much about the world, about feminisms, about the writing community – a culmination of my Honours and my life experiences. It’s been fucking stressful, and I feel like I’ve somehow managed to cram two years’ worth of work and stuff this year, but I don’t think I would have wanted to have it any other way.
For those of you who know me best, you know I’m not a fan of change. I like plans, and I like to know where I’m going and what I’m doing as I go forward in life. But I’m trying to loosen my grip on that kind of mindset – at least, for the next couple of years. There are things I want to do, places I want to go, people I want to meet, and so I’m going to have to play it by ear for a bit. Part of me is terrified, but the other part of me is excited. I can’t wait to see what the world has in store for me, and hopefully I’ll be able to send a little part of me out into the world to say thank you.