Dealing with the Uncertainty of the Future: Lessons from Nostalgia, Now, and Next

            The future is something we all face with a mix of excitement and fear. The world is starkly unpredictable, and we are a reflection of its constantly evolving nature. We can never fully predict what lies ahead of us, which only amplifies the uncertainty we all feel as we navigate the constant changes in our daily lives. Throughout major life transitions or unexpected challenges, the future remains something we can never fully prepare for.

            As university students, the biggest change looming on the horizon is graduation. Most of us are not excited for the transition into adulthood that awaits us—we’re students from age 6 to 22, and then we must decide to continue studying or let go of that part of our identity entirely. Our life has been defined by a prescribed path–go to school, graduate high school, go to university–but then we’re expected to redefine ourselves outside of academia and navigate new environments where success is measured through career achievements instead of grades. It’s a daunting shift that feels almost impossible to prepare for.

            Growing up, I was jealous of people who picked a career path at age 5 and stuck with it. When I was 5, I wanted to be Hannah Montana when I grew up (I wish I was joking). My ‘dream job’ constantly shifted: I wanted to be a nurse, like my mom, then I thought about being a music teacher, followed by a writer, an environmental scientist, a journalist, an english professor, a lawyer… To this day, I have not committed to any decision, and I find myself admiring others who have happily dedicated themselves to a career path and life plan. At 19, a friend of mine fell in love with biochemistry and mapped out exactly how to become a professor in the field–research internships, Ph.D., the works. Meanwhile, I sometimes still consider if I can be the next Hannah Montana (probably not).

            Sylvia Plath’s fig tree metaphor from The Bell Jar perfectly represents what I see when I think about my future:

            “I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”

- Plath, Sylvia. The Bell Jar. 1st U.S. ed., Harper & Row, 1971.

            There are so many alluring realities I can picture myself in that it becomes extremely difficult to choose just one ‘fig’. But, Plath’s warning is clear: the most fatal choice of them all is to simply not choose. The future is inevitable, so we must be careful to not let opportunities wither away while we wait for the perfect path forward.

            As students, we feel this threat of the future in almost all decisions we make. It is endearing to keep your options open in the early years of university, but as the clock starts to tick on our college experience, it now appears naive and immature to not have a plan in place. Every decision–our major, clubs, volunteer organizations, electives, even which friend group we join–feels like a step towards defining our careers and shaping our lives. However, constantly thinking about the next internship, connection, experience, etc., that will define our career and set us up for lifetime success is exhausting.

            Looking back, I realize my anxiety about the future isn’t just about what's ahead—it’s about the tension between where I am now and where I want to be. Perhaps this stems from my obsession with nostalgia for eras I’ve never lived in–I like to dream about what my life would be like if I was born in a different generation. I was one of those kids who couldn’t wait to grow up, and wanted nothing more than the autonomy of adulthood. I prided myself on liking ‘adult’ things: I had an AC/DC pencil case, I listened to the classic rock radio station, and I brought my dad’s silver iPod with me on the bus and blasted everything from Fleetwood Mac to Nickelback. I was never content in my current time period, and longed to skip either forward or backward in my life’s timeline–as if I could find satisfaction and be content in any other time but the present.

            Though this may seem like some sort of temporal discontent, I don’t think it’s that deep–I just liked older things and prided myself on being ‘not like the other girls’. But there’s definitely something about those feelings that linger with me throughout my life. The future scares me because of its complexity (everything gets more complicated as you grow older) and uncertainty. The time pockets of the past I yearn for–whether that’s being a teenager in the 80s in a small town, or going to college in a big city in the 2000s, even losing myself in a music festival in the 60s–are definable and certain. They cannot be altered or changed, and forever exist through popular culture and media. The future, however, doesn’t offer that same clarity; it’s the unpredictability that makes it both exciting and daunting.

            The pull of the past has lessened as I grow more confident in my future, which continues to evolve with each choice I make. The biggest decisions in my life include the major I chose, the university I left my hometown for, studying abroad for a semester, and planning for further education in law. These choices have shaped me significantly, but I have no regrets. I try to live by a “everything works out in the end” sort of philosophy, where I trust my uncertainty now will eventually make sense in hindsight, and I’ll reflect on my past with gratitude.

            But it’s not just the big decisions that shape our lives. Often, we overlook how much the smaller, everyday choices influence our future. For instance, the reason I’m writing these words right now is because my first-year English class was moved online, and I ended up randomly joining the first available in-person class I found. This class just so happened to be taught by a fantastic, inspirational professor who curated a life-long passion for writing in me that I never knew I had. I also randomly sat next to two nice girls on the first day of class, who remain some of my closest friends today. The big-picture decisions are easy to stress about, but it’s important to remember how much our everyday choices influence our life path. With this wisdom, I’ve tried to mitigate the stress of making major decisions by focusing on right now, and how much something little could also impact my future.

           So while I still don’t know if I’ll ever become the next Hannah Montana (though a girl can dream), I’ve come to realize that life has a way of weaving itself together in the end–whether that’s 2, 5, or 20 years down the road–so it’s okay to make a choice and let the cards fall as they may. Live in the present, trust yourself, and embrace all the adventures, happiness, love, and sadness you’re experiencing right now. These moments will compound and grow to shape the path ahead while helping you navigate everything that’s going on right now.

            The key to navigating life’s uncertainty is accepting change as the only constant, as paradoxical as it may seem. To end with one last cliché: accept what you cannot change, have the courage to change what you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

            It isn’t about knowing exactly where you’re going, but being able to move forward and trust yourself to lead in the right direction. Approach life with an open mind and heart, and embrace change along the way–you’ll end up exactly where you need to be.

Beyond the Blog

A place to find hyper-specific media recommendations focused on highlighting our favourite female-centric books and music.

Books

When I’m feeling unsure about the future, I find comfort in the past. Here are my favourite books I read many years ago (as in when I was 14… so not that long ago) which remind me of a simpler time:

Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery

There is so much solace to be found in Montgomery’s classically Canadian tale. Anne’s inspiring narrative is like a warm hug in book form.

Educated by Tara Westover

Not your average biography–a harrowing recollection of growing up in an extremist family and finding escape through the power of education.

Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng

Now a TV show starring Reese Witherspoon, Little Fires Everywhere is a complex coming-of-age mixed with thriller which resonates powerfully with me both now and then. 

Normal People by Sally Rooney

You either love or hate Rooney’s unique prose and frustratingly real characters. When I was first reading this as a sophomore in high school, I couldn’t understand why the people in Rooney’s novel acted the way they do. As an adult, though, I see nuance in these characters and agree when people say Normal People (and its TV adaptation) is their favourite horror show.

Music

I try not to pride myself too much on being obsessed with older music. It usually gives me street-cred with those aged 45 and up, but the 20-something year olds around me probably do not appreciate the ego-trip knowing these ‘oldies’ gives me. That being said, older music has so much charm which goes unacknowledged. Here are my favourite soft-rock comfort songs of the past:

Seventeen by Janis Ian

Is there such a thing as relating too much to lyrics? Janis Ian has captured girlhood so timelessly that the shared lived experience we share almost brings a tear to my eye.

“It isn’t all it seems,

At seventeen”

Snowbird by Anne Murray

Hopefully, you don’t recognize this song from a Family Guy episode (though the joke was quite funny). Anne Murray’s voice is lilty but catchy, and reminds me of simpler times. 

(They Long To Be) Close To You by Carpenters

This song started playing on the radio in my mom’s car many years ago, and we both decided to sing along. Since then, it’s become our song, and we always sing it together whenever I come home from school. I’m reminded of my mom whenever I hear this song, and what is more comforting than your mom?

You’re So Vain by Carly Simon

A feel-good classic from a different era—equally uniting women of today just as much as it did back then. Carly Simon’s storytelling is relatable and her voice is confident and powerful.

Find the full playlist here on our new spotify account!