Life is not a race, but I’m really far behind

AS PEOPLE age, we get to know more about ourselves and the world we live in. We become exposed to various institutions, all of which contribute to the knowledge we gain along the way.

As a kid, I was always on the move, our relatives would often ask me “kiti-kiti ka ba, bakit ang likot mo?” or “may balat ka ba sa pwet, bakit labas ka ng labas?” As a young, adventurous kid, I was always excited about what life had to offer, with each age giving me a new dream. With many goals listed in my head, my greatest goal is to set foot in PICC in my toga with a diploma.

As I grew older, I became more exposed to life in and outside school, and my schedule slowly got packed with extracurriculars. It made me love the hustle more. Stacking my schedule with more and more activities never felt like a chore; it was just me working hard for my dreams.

However, as twisted fate may have it, now that I am on my penultimate college term, I find myself stuck with a big hurdle I cannot jump over. Although there was progress in my slow steps, it was too stagnant for my liking. Suddenly, life felt like a race, with each hurdle slowing me down.

Wide-eyed achiever

I always considered myself an active kid; I knew what I wanted and how I could achieve it, going as far as crafting a 10-year plan when I was still a pre-teen. In ten years, I was supposed to be fresh out of college with a stable job, pursuing passion projects on the side, with nothing to worry about. But that could not have been very far from my reality. Now, my younger self would surely freak out if she knew that the ten-year plan would simply stay as it is, a mere plan.

A big part of this plan was finishing school and graduating with flying colors. As a kid, I equated grades and academic validation with my purpose in life. It wasn’t like there was external pressure; I never had anyone expecting more than I could take, and no one forced me into the mindset that I had to be great at everything in an instant. I simply liked the idea of having my life planned out.

That was just the way I was wired. I knew I was privileged enough to have everything I needed to ensure that I could grow up to become the best version of myself, so failure was never an option.

So, wearing my rose-colored glasses after my high school graduation, I thought I was ready to face the great big world full of heart and passion. However, nothing could have prepared me for an identity hurdle I had yet to face.

Pending destination

Now, in all honesty, as I traverse this long road, I can’t shake off the feeling that I do not have a specific destination. All of a sudden, there is pressure and expectations as to what this former achiever will do next.

It started in my second year of college, in a room filled with artsy and creative people; I felt small as if everything I achieved throughout my years was just a speck compared to my peers.

I questioned if I was truly meant for the arts; although we all had the same starting line, my pace was slow, my progress felt stagnant, and I felt like a candle slowly losing its fire in an unfamiliar environment.

Despite all this, I powered through, fighting for a path that no longer felt like it was meant for me. With hard work and a bit of luck, I am about to reach the finish line, but months before my projected month of graduation, I find myself at a crossroads, unsure of what I truly want to do once I leave college. Maybe it’s burnout because, after all, this is the first time I felt stumped. I am faced with the reality that I have no set path yet.

Although the looming uncertainty of life is quite alarming, I like to believe that there is always a silver lining, hoping that today’s uncertainty can be my tomorrow’s unwavering success. A chafe in my ten-year plan does not necessarily mean my life is instantly set up for failure.

So even when we feel like we’re a thousand steps behind in life’s marathon, hold on to the idea that everyone has no fixed timeline. With a hopeful heart, let us believe that there is beauty in embracing the unknown.