Transition Periods: Life After the Laid-Out Path
Written by Vincent Buchner | Jun 5, 2025
Last Updated at June 5, 2025
I am now officially an alumni.
That’s still a weird thing to write. It sounds kind of sweet, like the closing line of a story you’ve worked hard to finish. But to be honest, it’s also kind of daunting. “Alumni” just sounds so… final. Like those years are now behind me and the only way forward is, well, forward. There’s no retaking a class, no “next semester,” no GPA to salvage or build. That chapter is closed.
The good news? I just got a job as a software engineer. That’s really exciting, and I am super excited to get going. It’s the sort of thing I was aiming for this entire time. I’ve written things, fixed things I thought were broken beyond repair, learned about frameworks I had no idea even existed, and somehow emerged intact on the other side. This new position feels like a reward in a sense. But at the same time, I’d be a liar if I said that I wasn’t a bit scared: not of performing the job, but of stepping onto the road that I’m now setting out on.
This is what I’m trying to say: when you’re in school, life comes in milestones. You go semester by semester, year by year, each step with defined separation. There’s a rhythm to it. People get it: you can say, “I can’t, I got class,” or “I’m a student, that’s not in my budget,” and the world continues on. You have structure, and that structure dictates your goals and decisions for you.
Now? That structure’s gone. The checkpoints vanish. No semesters, no finals, no vacations. Just one extended timeline into the distance. And then the burden of structure becomes your problem. Your justification can no longer be “school”: it must be your vision. And that’s scary, because vision is malleable. It’s not always concrete. It’s not a syllabus you follow or a major you pledge to. It’s something you build in the moment. And at times you don’t even know if you are building in the right direction.
That’s where I’m at. Trapped in this strange in-between. I haven’t started working yet, but everything else in my life is already in motion. My friends are scattered into new routines. Some start jobs. Some start moving away. Others continue classes. Time is out of kilter and I’m in limbo. It’s a clunky transition and it feels exposed.
I don’t think we talk enough about this part: the space between work and school. It’s not glamorous. There is this notion that everything magically works out after you’ve graduated. But it doesn’t always. Oftentimes there is this tiny fissure when the system has not yet caught up. And in that fissure, you start wondering “How do I stay motivated? How do I maintain a routine? Am I building something meaningful, or just busy?”
The test these days is how to live without pre-made structure. How to make my own milestones and rhythms without having someone lay them out for me. That’s the massive head shift. At school, you climb a staircase that has been built by another human. Now, I’m laying down the stairs as I move.
Still, with all of that, I’m stoked. I understand that this discomfort is one of the things that helps me grow. I’ve had transition periods before, and while they’re painful, they’ve always led to something greater. I think the secret now is to be intentional about how I organize my days. I need to read up on routines, maybe ask mentors on how they organize their priorities, and start trial-and-error testing what works for me. I mean, if I am doing this next step all by myself, then I’d better at least make it something to be proud of.
It’s a little weird, slightly horrifying, but hopeful. If you’re reading this and you’re in the same sort of boat - caught between something being over and something just beginning - just know you’re not alone in that weird, floating in-between. We’ll find our ground soon enough.
