#6: My Spring Break Trip to Reality
By Sarah Wexler
My Recurring Dream/Nightmare
I have this recurring dream. And by recurring, I mean it happens at least twice a month. In the dream, it’s moments before I have to go on stage. I’m backstage, fully dressed in costume, makeup perfectly done—but I have absolutely no idea what performance I’m about to be in. I suddenly realize I never practiced the routine. At all. And yet, I’m expected to walk out there and somehow just know what to do. Meanwhile, everyone else in the cast is perfectly prepared, leaving me as the only one completely clueless.
It might just be a weird dream, but I can’t shake the feeling that it’s my subconscious screaming at me. I may not be about to step onto a stage, but I am about to step into post-grad—into real life. And much like in my dream, I feel wildly unprepared.
Unlike a stage performance, there’s no script or set choreography for adulthood. No rehearsals, no safety net, no choreographer whispering directions from the wings. Just me, standing backstage, hoping I don’t mess it all up.
Up until now, my path has been neatly paved: get good grades, go to college, get a job. But now, my heart sinks at the realization that this is the job. Not to be dramatic, but everything I’ve done—and everything I haven’t—has led to this. The next “act” of my life is hazy at best, and I have only a vague idea of what comes next or how to get there.
Apparently, my future is not Narnia.
During my spring break, instead of binge drinking on an island with my friends, I had a staycation on Long Island and took the time to attend a marketing networking event in Manhattan. (Apologies for the lack of post). After listening to a panel of Binghamton alumni working in the marketing industry, we had time to walk around and network.
At one point, I found myself standing with two alumni who had graduated around 2015. After I asked them a few questions, their conversation naturally shifted to catching up.
"You saw she just got married, right?"
"Yeah, and so-and-so is having a baby."
I don’t interact with millennials in the industry often—or at all, really—but hearing their casual discussion was unexpectedly jarring. These were people who, not too long ago, were at Binghamton, studying and partying like any other college student. And now, they were talking about marriages and babies and their big-girl jobs—real adult things.
That’s when it hit me: these aren’t just distant professionals in some far-off stage of life. These are the people I’ll soon be working alongside—my future coworkers and industry peers. And in that moment, I realized—my future isn’t some abstract, faraway thing. It’s coming at me fast.
So, apparently, my future is not Narnia. It’s not a mythical place. It’s actually two months away.
It’s hard not to spiral into a minor existential crisis when I think about my first job post-college. Will I even be able to get one? And if I do, have I done enough to prepare myself for it?
Like, can you even have imposter syndrome if you’re an actual imposter?
Chasing my City Dreams
I know that if I want to get where I want to go—to live my dream of moving to the city and being completely independent—I have to be uncomfortable. I have to network and pretend not to have major social anxiety. I have to work on my soft skills. I have to be an adult, essentially.
Figuring out my future feels like painting a mural with a brush the size of an eyelash. Each stroke is a conversation with a professional, an event I attend, a day spent working on my skills. Slowly, the picture will come together.
I want to fast forward to next year–to the more confident and capable me who’s already done all of the hard stuff. But that’s life, I guess. You don’t get to skip ahead to the next act.
And maybe—the hard won’t be as hard as I think.
Adulthood used to terrify me. But now? It’s all I want. When I was navigating the city in my work suit, I could picture myself doing it every day. Even at the event, I knew I was heading in the right direction. It all just felt right. I hope to be like the professionals I met that day—secure in their careers, confident in their paths, and able to guide young people like me.
Not too long ago, I wanted to be a kid forever, clinging to the comfort of the familiar. But now? I crave adulthood—the independence, the opportunities, the life that comes with it. And if stepping into that life means pushing my boundaries, then bring it on, world.
Maybe you’re feeling the same way—standing backstage, unsure if you’re ready for the next step, or what that step even is. But ready or not, the curtain is rising. And something tells me we’re going to figure it out.
