I moved to Europe three years ago. For a while, it was my dream. I have no idea what I imagined my life in Europe would be like, I definitely imagined I would be completely fluent in at least one of the European languages I studied. I’m not. But I thought, to some extent, I would have a job—which I don’t. I thought I would stick around the US for all of Ig’s life. That did not happen. She has now seen five European countries and driven across the US. But that is a story for another time. This is about imaging futures when time has stopped. This is just to say I am used to life not going as planned.
At many moments in my life, I thought I would pursue different careers. I have always had a wide variety of interests and enough passion to pursue nearly all of them with an intensity that would frighten most people. I have heard a few times that watching me dive into an interest of mine is both marvelous and terrifying to watch. For me, it’s just what it is.
My variety of interests leaves me with a lot of open doors I can imagine myself walking through. Each step opens yet another set of possibilities. This is especially true as it becomes less common for my generation to stay on a pre-defined career path.
Since moving to Europe, I have taught English, been unemployed, worked as an editor, worked as a freelancer content contributor, and started a master’s program. I am several months out from finishing that program, and I am struggling to figure out what my life will look like on the other side.
I am used to the idea of uncertainty in my future; the endless possibilities inspire me to continue to pursue all of my interests, to not limit myself. But today, when I imagine all of the possibilities available to me, they are tinged with the sinister reminder that the world I am used to no longer exists. The world I am used to and you are used to is a thing of the past, and we are heading into a future many of us were not prepared for.
This is not a “bad” future, just different. And the additional layer of the unknown makes me more nervous than I would otherwise be about fully entering the job market. The possibilities available to me have been limited by the record job losses and decreased spending. I may not get into a PhD program. I may find a job in the US; I may stay in Europe.
I have both too many options and not enough to be certain I will land safely on my feet on the other side. Considering the world we live in, I am not sure this is a reasonable expectation anymore. I have since lowered my expectations to simply hoping I make it out the other side with as few battle wounds as possible.
For the better part of a year and now what is the majority of my master’s program experience, I have been social distancing and spending as much of my time “at home” as possible. —although that home has changed several times and now we are staying in a month-to-month vacation rental. My only points of reference to segment out the different moments over this past year are now the different houses we were in when events took place and the intensity with which I clung to my optimism.
When I look back over the year, the year where I have learned the most intellectually since maybe high school, the year I experienced the most uncertainty, and the year where I thought I would be the most excited about the doors my master’s degree would open, when I look back over the past year, it is difficult to feel like anything has changed.
The day Italy’s lockdown was announced, the day Belgium’s was, the Biden election, any one of those days could have been yesterday. If you told me so, I would almost believe you. What happened last week? More or less the same thing that happened yesterday. I could follow the news more closely because I know this is not the case for everyone. Many people’s lives are characterized by less stability right now. I am privileged in this. But closely following the news feels like a never-ending supply of anxiety-inducing, sensationalized stories, or more news about Trump than I can handle.
As a soon-to-be recent grad with a master’s degree, it is difficult to process that I am nearing the end of a program because time feels like it is moving differently. It’s like going down a water slide and you reach a final dip and come tumbling out into the water without expecting it. You are just tossed in and expected to swim.
As a US citizen with nearly all the rights of an EU citizen (and eventual Italian citizenship), I have two continents available to me for straight-forward, non-visa-sponsored work. But I don’t know which continent, country, or city we will move to. It will most likely be Belgium unless Jesse can continue working remotely. It could be another country, we could stay in Italy, I could be moving to the US. All of these are conditional on what my job prospects look like in the future.
But planning for my future based on my expectations of what it would look like seems pointless. I do not believe we will go back to the way things were before. We do not know if or when that will be possible. The best I can work with is the information I have: I am graduating in a few months. When I look at my calendar, I know it’s coming, but it feels like I should have an additional couple of months to prepare. But it is coming whether I am ready or not.