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Writer's pictureJulia Peterson

Advice column #15: How do I celebrate this milestone?


This month, the advice columnist answers a question about celebrating life cycle events, like graduations, while estranged.


Q: Been estranged from my family for 6 years. I've had lots of therapy and managed okay day to day but I graduate tomorrow and I have felt horrendous today with mainly physical symptoms that I wish would just stop. I think there are various things I'm anxious about. Being too upset by seeing everyone's happy and supportive family around them - I would love that too but it's just not the case for me. I have good friends coming and they know my situation and I know they'll be really supportive but that still won't fill the massive hole in my heart. Unlikely but I'm anxious about Family turning up to the graduation uninvited. I think I will also find it really upsetting to reflect on how the last 7 years of my degree has been a really hard journey. I'm tempted not to go because maybe it will be just too much and won't be an enjoyable day, but all of my friends consider graduation an event you don't miss. But equally in counselling I'm trying to work on self compassion and celebrating my achievements. It's definitely my proudest and best achievement so feel I'm meant to be celebrating. Any advice for me?


A: Hi there, anonymous friend,


Thanks for writing in — and, big congratulations on your graduation! It’s an incredible accomplishment, and you have every reason to be proud of yourself for reaching this milestone.


If it’s all right by you, I’d like to tell you a story from right around my own graduation.


Exactly three hours before I became estranged from my family of origin, I found out I had been accepted into graduate school. And I was proud, and relieved, in a distant sort of way … so I mostly put it to the back of my mind, because I had more important things to deal with right then. I still had to leave. I still had to take a 25-hour bus ride back to school. I had dozens of calls, texts and emails to field. And I was so very, very tired. When I finally got to my dorm room, I fell into bed and slept for 17 hours straight, and still woke up feeling drained. 


Two days later, I decided I was ready to face the world — sort of. I had this strange idea in my head that, since I had just walked away from my family of origin, I had no ‘right’ to ask for support from anybody else (which was, uh … wrong. I can sort of see how I got there, at a time when I was feeling deeply insecure about the path I was choosing and the new place I was carving out in the world, and all the messages I’d ever been told about how my family of origin were the only people who would ever truly love me or care about me. But I learned, and have kept learning, that the world and most of the people in it are so much kinder than what I had been raised to believe). 


So I was quite nervous when I went to pay a visit to a couple of my mentors, ‘Lynn’ and ‘James.’ 


I knocked on the office door, and Lynn opened it, and I started — slowly, anxiously — to tell her about the last week-and-a-bit of my life. The moment I’d walked out. The bus journey. The email.


And she just lit up, smiling as wide as I’d ever seen her smile. 


“Oh my goodness, you got into grad school! James, James, come here! They just got into grad school!”


When I first opened that email from the admissions department, I was happy about it — in theory. But in that moment, for the first time, I felt happy about it. I felt proud. Seeing Lynn’s pride in me, it finally sank in that I had done something worth being proud of.


Two months later, I walked across the stage for my own graduation. 


I had been terribly nervous about that, too — would my family of origin show up? Even if they didn’t, I knew they’d be watching on the live-stream. I was very glad to have one supportive person in the audience with me, but I could also see many of my classmates surrounded by parents and grandparents and all their extended family from far and wide.


I remember standing in line, adjusting the cords over my graduation robe, whispering to myself: “Dignity, dignity, dignity.” No matter what, I had to keep my head held high. I had to look strong, collected, resolute. People were watching, after all.


And … that is pretty much the only thing I remember about that day. I remember the pattern of my lavender cords over the black robe; the borrowed dress I had on underneath. I remember the rhythm of my quiet whispering. I remember taking so many photos with friends afterwards. I remember a few words of the commencement speech.


That’s it.


When I think back on my graduation, and that moment of transition from one chapter of my life into the next — the celebration of this moment, and of all the work it took to get here — my mind doesn’t go to that big stage on the quad with all eyes on me. It goes to Lynn’s office, and her big smile, and how she was so eager to shout out her pride from the rooftops. 


So here’s how I see it:


If you don’t want to go to your graduation ceremony, you certainly don’t have to go.


For some people, graduation is a big, milestone, affirming, celebratory moment — for other people, it’s a whole lot of hours of sitting in an uncomfortable chair, punctuated by a perfunctory handshake and a walk across a stage.


But whether or not you go to the ceremony, I’d encourage you to find your own way to celebrate your proudest and best achievement (so far!), in a way that feels truly celebratory to you.


You’ve got good, supportive friends who want to cheer you on — why not throw a small graduation party with just them? Go out for a nice meal, or put up some streamers and crank up the music at home; bake yourself a cake (or whatever celebratory food you prefer), or ask a friend to bring one for you. Hell, there’s no limit to what you can do to celebrate this moment. You could try skydiving, and shout “I GRADUATED!” at the top of your lungs as you pull the parachute cords. You could take out an ad in Times Square. Why not? This is your moment.


Let the people on ‘team you’ who’ve been loving, supportive cheerleaders on your journey to this moment shout out their pride for you — they’ve got every reason to be proud of your accomplishments, and so do you.


And give yourself the graduation gift of celebrating on your own terms, not anybody else’s.


All the best (and, once again — congratulations, graduate!),


Hila


 

 

Hila (any pronouns) is the Advice Columnist for the Together Estranged Newsletter. They have been happily estranged for a number of years, and now live with their chosen family and beloved, silly dog in rural Canada. They have a background in mental health, peer support, writing and journalism. Outside of work, Hila can be found recreating desserts from The Great British Bake Off, running on the beautiful trails near their home, singing show tunes, and learning to knit.


 

 

Please Note: The peer to peer Advice Columnist is not a licensed mental health professional; this is not medical advice. If you are in crisis or you think you may have an emergency, please go to your local urgent care center to talk to a professional counselor.


The views and opinions expressed by Advice Columnists are those of the Advice Columnists and do not necessarily reflect the views or positions of Together Estranged.

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