On my desk, I have a copy of The Quad, volume 118, issue 6. The date reads March 20, 2020. It is the last paper issue of The Quad. On the right side of the front page, among the featured articles for the week, is the headline “Award-winning author Dorothy Allison visits WCU,” written by Shannon Montgomery, Special to The Quad. Ironically, this was the first article I ever wrote for The Quad.
When I learned that I would be spending my senior year at home, my therapist told me to take time to grieve. What I was experiencing was a loss. There are a lot of moments and experiences that I’ll never get to have: Sunday mornings in The Quad office, walking down the track on Senior Day, going to basketball games, performing on steel drum at Banana Day. But besides the milestone moments, I’m also missing out on a critical development period in my life. College is supposed to be about gaining independence and finding yourself. It’s hard to become an adult when you’re plucked from your apartment and have to move back in with your parents 45 minutes away from campus. I never found myself.
I imagine that the transition from college to the workforce is never easy. When you’ve been going to school every day for the past 15-plus years, it’s hard to pivot into doing something completely different. When you have to do this in the midst of a global pandemic, this becomes much more difficult. I feel about the same as I did when I started college four years ago: young, directionless and scared.
Of course, my mental health plays a role in this. The pandemic has taken a toll on everyone’s mental health, with the CDC reporting that 40% of Americans are struggling with mental health or substance abuse disorders last year. This is especially true of young adults, as a quarter of Americans between 18 and 24 years old are reporting suicidal thoughts. As someone who has been dealing with mental illness long before the pandemic, I have certainly noticed my symptoms worsening and new challenges arising. The social isolation and monotony of daily life have exacerbated my depression. I struggle to get classwork done on time. Daily chores pile up, and self-care is a thing of the past. Though I’m starved for social interaction, I find myself withdrawing from friends even in a virtual capacity. With little to look forward to, I struggle to find meaning and purpose in my life. I fear how this will translate to life after the pandemic. As things are finally starting to reopen, I don’t feel much better. I’m exhausted after running errands outside the house. I get anxious in grocery stores and other crowded spaces.
That being said, even though over half of Americans have received one dose of the vaccine, I still can’t imagine how the pandemic ends. I can’t picture a day where no one wears a mask, we stand less than six feet apart in checkout lines and people go to crowded concerts and travel abroad. Likewise, I can’t imagine my life after graduation. After spending the last year of my life in front of a screen, I struggle to picture myself commuting to work, sitting in an office and interacting with coworkers face-to-face. I also can’t picture what this job will be. I don’t know what I want to do after graduation. I didn’t get to do any internships or join new organizations. I didn’t get to try new things, figure out what I enjoy and what I don’t, what I excel at and what I struggle with. So, being an English major, I search “writing” on Indeed and scroll through pages of listings, bookmarking any “entry-level” position that doesn’t require a master’s degree or 10 years experience. Truth be told, I haven’t found anything that particularly interests or excites me. But in one of the worst job markets since the Great Depression, a time where a quarter of employers have ceased recruitment or rescinded job offers to recent college graduates, it’s less about finding something I’m passionate about and more about taking what I can get.
Looking back at that old copy of The Quad, I’m proud of everything I have gotten to do in college. I’m thankful for the time I spent on campus and for what I was able to be a part of virtually. Next month, I’ll put on a cap and gown and reminisce on all those good times. I’ll listen to speeches about how the future is bright and full of promise, to friends and family telling me how proud they are and that they can’t wait to see what I become. On that day, I’ll smile, thank everyone graciously and celebrate. After that, I don’t know what I’ll do.
It’s hard to move on to the next chapter in my life when there is so much left unfinished.
Shannon Montgomery is a fourth-year English major with minors in Creative Writing and Women’s & Gender Studies. SM916394@wcupa.edu