It’s just different, but different is really f**king hard.
This became my quiet mantra during the onboarding in my first full-time role. It was the response I gave everyone that asked how my transition was going. It’s just different, but different is really f**king hard.
In the month before I started my new job out of graduate school, I realized all of my conversations were about how to get a job, not what to do when you get there. Granted the “what to do when you get there” part was the entire masters program, but I was panicking. I wanted a rule book that didn’t exist.
I started collecting wisdom from everyone I came across. Here are the sentiments that helped frame how I showed up on my first day:
- “Up until now, your sole responsibility was to learn, now it is time to do. Learning will be inherently part of it. Once you learn how to do your job, that doesn’t mean your job is complete, that’s where you get to make it your own”
- “Remember that differences between institutions are not faults, but simply differences.”
- “Use the language ‘at my previous institution’ when you want to pull in past experience, innovations, and ideas rather than naming the institution it came from”
- “Be a sponge your first year, observe the politics and historical context. Things will start to make more sense. Innovation will become easier when you understand why structures and programs were created in the first place”
- “You may not be inherently trusted when you walk in on your first day. Trust can be gained by following through, remember this before making empty promises to new colleagues”
- “Ask questions, being the newbie comes with some privilege of being able to ask hard questions, that might feel taboo later”
I made it a point to journal through my transition. My journaling not only serves as a coping mechanism for the current me, but it is quite the gift for the future me to find wisdom in. This piece is a candid reflection based on journal entries kept during my first six months. I am so excited to share them with you.
Whether they were expected or not, the experiences and feelings through transition weren’t any less jarring.
Grief
I left a graduate experience I loved, filled with people I deeply care about. I am still grieving that. Similar to other types of grief, time and new memories made the longing for what once was, less intrusive. The nuanced part was, I thought I wasn’t allowed to feel this and certainly not allowed to express it. I felt like I owed it to my new role to get over it and just be happy to be there (which was also true). Similarly, I felt like I had to give my old office the space to exist in the norm without me. I suppose this experience is similar to how I would feel mourning an ex with a new lover. This made for an incredibly lonely experience. Grief is love with nowhere to go, so with time, I found new jars to pour into, and new ways to pour into old jars.
“At My Previous Institution”
Something about this phrase feels so odd as a part of my vocabulary, but somehow I appreciate when others use it. I think the use of the phrase is encouraged to prevent the perception that we are saying our past institutions are superior? Maybe? I am still not too sure.
I knew I did not want to be the “know-it-all” new hire that didn’t stop talking about their last institution. However, it kept happening. I would get frustrated with myself until a conversation revealed the root of why I was doing this. I was craving being known. I had established strong relationships and a reputation on my previous campus. It felt like all I was ever proud of was now irrelevant. My ego was so desperately grasping for someone to sit with me in the grief of that.
I had to constantly remind myself that I was no longer interviewing. I had the job. Learning that the inclination to bring up past experience was just me wanting to be known, allowed me to hold myself with more grace. I had to accept that I had an ego just like everyone else, rather than be ashamed of it. With this acceptance, it became more obvious when past experience was relevant to bring to the table and when it’s just noise. You apparently don’t have to cite the source of every idea you have. At the same time, there are also people that would love to hear about your journey. The dance between the noise and genuine connection was messy. Holding my grief with grace and accepting my ego were the crucial first step to be able to show up in this new environment how I wanted to.
Hesitancy
I saw hesitance, self-doubt, and a reluctance to commit to new experiences play out in different ways with different members of my cohort. For me and some of my peers, there was a hesitancy to admit to ourselves and others that we were having a hard time in a new place, because we each made the choice to be in these new positions. It took months until I was on the phone with my dad after my toilet overflowed all over my apartment for me to crack. In my emotional state, my dad had the wisdom to ask, “Mandy, is this really about the toilet?” I didn’t want to tell my family that I missed home because I made the decision not to move home. Two things can exist at once. You can know you are where you want to be AND being where you want to can be hard. If you don’t share the struggle as you make the transition, you aren’t giving others the chance to support you through it.
Taking Notes and Creating My Own Guidebook
Without a rule book, I am here to write this one year into my new position with overwhelming pride. In my journal, I kept notes of the things that helped me along the way:
Affirmations
Words of affirmation rise to the top of my love language ranking when I am in a new place. Once I settle in, it drops, but I absolutely need these words in the beginning. I keep two journals: my personal one at home and my professional one at work. My tone is consistent in both, but my professional journal is an outlet for me to process professional experiences. In this journal I keep a list of affirmations others have given me or moments where I felt affirmed. I have simple statements like “I am so glad they hired you” and then moments like when I heard giggling outside my office from people enjoying my Halloween display. My magic was starting to seep into the framework of the office suite. This list made me feel seen.
Mundane
Starting in the summer made the days feel quite mundane. Transitioning to having a whole 40 hours a week to get my work done was mundane. Being a graduate student forced me to manage not just the workload of a full time job within the hours of a part time graduate assistantship, but classes, homework, internships, and a pretty healthy social life. While sitting at my new desk, I found myself with an abundance of time I was unfamiliar with. I accepted the privilege of having extra time by following through on all the times I sighed to myself “when I have more time I can…” as a grad student. I leaned into all of the professional development opportunities on my new campus. I read articles and new books related to my role, grad school books I regretted not diving into more, and listened to podcasts. Listening to podcasts created by my mentors was a bonus. I got to hear their voices and bring them with me into my new space.
Mentors
You know the sentiment people share with first year students about not going home too quickly into their first semester because it makes the homesickness worse? This was how I felt with reaching out to my mentors. But while you shouldn’t “go home every weekend,” calling home is something different. Don’t stop making calls to the people you miss. I misinterpreted the idea of “going home” and reached out much later than I wish I had. I have never regretted reaching out to a mentor. They remind you who you are and what you are capable of when you feel so unknown. Continuing these relationships out of graduate school allows you to grow into mutually beneficial colleagues. These relationships are special, nourish them.
Simplify
In the beginning, I was taking in all of what my job could look like. It was overwhelming to think about all of the moving pieces and grab hold of the impact I hoped to make. I had to simplify my job description in a way that grounded me. My job is the students. Primarily, my job is to supervise my students and help them leverage their strengths to further our office mission. This made it a whole lot easier to feel driven and accomplished.
Comparison
While I was able to do a good job at not comparing my experience to anyone else’s, I had a harder time not comparing my current self to my past self. The way I felt, the relationships I had, and the accomplishments that I am proud of, took two full years of developing. It’s just not a fair comparison. A more accurate comparison was thinking about all of my beginnings. I found comfort and wisdom in my journal entries from my transition into grad school. It grounded me in hope through the raw reflections of the last time I had to build community and navigate a new place.
Laughter
As someone who grew up in the student-leadership and team-building corner of the world, it takes a lot of vulnerability for me to feel truly connected to someone. Upon arrival on my new campus, I knew that I was in no place to turn down a chance to build relationships- so I said yes to everything. I often shared with my parents that I was excited to build a foundation so I could stop cosplaying as an extrovert. Saying yes to everything took energy, but it earned me a standing invitation on Thursday nights playing trivia at the local Lowes Foods. From the first week I arrived, I had people to laugh with. Thursday night trivia became an energy refill. I didn’t know how desperately I needed that. I released the pressure of the hyper-focus on finding my next soul-tie friendships- and just enjoyed laughing with my new people. This circle expanded into help during a stressful move, office door way chats, dog sitting gigs, innovative cross-campus collaborations, concert buddies, advice on when to cut into my pineapple, a downtown apartment to run into when I needed to use the bathroom, homemade bagels, and of course, Genovian Independence Day celebrations. With the group’s flow between breadth and depth, they have truly become my root community in Wilmington this year.
Different was really f**king hard, AND I found a lot of joy through my transition. I got to step into my new phase of life with a pretty solid starting point. I got to experience meeting new people I instantly knew were going to mean a lot to me. I developed self-efficacy with every new solo endeavor, from furniture building to walking into rooms where I didn’t know anybody. I got to build new habits and renegotiate who I wanted to become. I got to decorate a new apartment as a physical representation of my warmth. I got to open up my home and live out my dream of being a connection builder over a carefully curated event. I got to meet new students who continue to give me hope and a deep knowing that this is what I am meant to do. I was inspired by the people that create the Wilmington community with each volunteer experience. I got to find a new place to bask in it all while watching the sunset.
It was a weird experience that mirrored what I remember feeling like as a first-year student. In essence, this was my first year of true adulthood. Merely existing in a new place was already outside of my comfort zone, therefore nothing else felt impossible. I signed up for random events on Instagram, I joined a book club with people I didn’t know, I took yoga classes for the first time, I attended writing workshops, I joined a kickball team, and I have introduced myself to many strangers. The wise words my first supervisor often shared, “Easy robs you of proud” rang through my first year, and I got the gift of yet again proving to myself that I can do hard things.
Reflection Prompts:
- Transition is inevitable and having reminders of what has helped in the past can provide hope in the middle of the storm. Recall the last time you experienced transition. What did you do, intentionally or unintentionally, to help you through that process? What did you find helpful from others?
- We don’t enter new spaces as a blank slate, we enter with experiences, emotions, and trauma. If you are in a state of transition or supporting someone through transition, how can you hold space for both the transition into the new, and the transition out of the old?
- It is hard to feel known in a new environment which can trick us into thinking that we are all alone. Make a list of people in your support system. This is your sign to reach out to one of them 🙂
Author Biography
Mandy Vitale (she/her) currently serves as the Coordinator for Student Community Engagement at University of North Carolina Wilmington. Wilmington has become her home over the past year where she has the honor of serving alongside incredibly bright, driven, and joyful students, colleagues, and community partners. She graduated from Clemson’s Masters of Student Affairs Program in 2024 and is a James Madison University alum. You can view her previous publication with Developments here, Volume 20, Issue 3.