The Art of Holding Two Things at Once

bittersweet (adjective): producing both happiness and sadness.

There should be a word that comes after bittersweet — something deeper. Something that means: I know I’m lucky, but this still kind of hurts. Because that’s where I’ve been sitting lately. Somewhere in the middle.

In ten days, I will graduate from college.

That sentence doesn’t even feel real. But it is. My grad photos came back the other day, and I stared at them for a long time — not because I didn’t like how I looked, but because I almost didn’t recognize myself. Not in a “who is that?” kind of way, but more like… wow, I’ve changed. In ways you can’t always capture in a cap and gown or a filtered Instagram post.

I look older. Not just older in the “my face has matured” way — older in the “I’ve been through a lot and somehow came out the other side” way. And that part hit me harder than I thought it would.

The same week I got those photos, I jumped out of the shower mid-rinse because I could feel a panic attack creeping in — that tight, familiar feeling in my chest, like the walls were closing in and I needed out right now.

That’s the thing no one really talks about when life is going “well.”

Yes, I have an internship lined up. I’ve applied for an apartment that feels like the beginning of something real. I’ve started writing “graduate” instead of “student” when people ask who I am.

But it’s still scary. It’s still fast. It’s still heavy sometimes.

There are moments I feel proud of how far I’ve come. And there are other moments I want to curl up and slow time down, because I don’t feel ready to let go. Graduating literally feels like standing on a cliff with the best view I’ve ever seen and still being afraid to jump.

That’s what I mean by holding two things at once.

Joy and anxiety. Excitement and grief. Gratitude and exhaustion.

And I’m trying to let that be okay — to not fix or force anything, but to just let myself feel it all without rushing past it.

This blog has helped me with that more than I expected.

When Professor Gary Kayye assigned this project, I didn’t think I’d get much out of it. Honestly, I thought it would be just another class task to check off. But it’s ended up being something more personal. A place to untangle thoughts I didn’t know I had. A way to tell the truth without needing a perfect conclusion.

So thank you, Gary, for pushing us to write honestly — and thank you to everyone who’s read along, whether you’ve been here since the first post or just dropped in once or twice.

Ten days. That’s what’s left. I hope I keep writing. I hope I keep slowing down enough to feel. And I hope you do too.