What my first year in the “real world” taught me about comparison, perfection, and learning to run my own race.
There is a weird unspoken pressure that comes right after graduation.
The pressure to have everything figured out. The pressure to know exactly who you are, what you are doing, where you are going, and how you are going to get there.
And for my generation, that pressure feels almost impossible to escape because it is everywhere. We are constantly seeing people’s lives online, and even when we know it is only the highlight reel, it still makes comparison set in fast.
Suddenly, it is not just about figuring out your next step. It is the pressure to have the perfect routine, the perfect social life, the perfect job and salary, and the perfect answer when people ask how everything is going.
The answer that everyone gives (including myself) is usually something like: “It’s going great. I love it.” And while that can be true, it is not always the full truth.
A more honest answer might be: It’s good, but it’s also a lot. I’m learning. I’m proud of myself. I miss college. I feel behind. I feel ahead. I feel like I have all the time in the world yet no time at all.
That is probably the best way I can describe my first year after college.
It has been exciting. It has been challenging. It has been rewarding. But it has also been humbling in ways I didn’t expect.
As a former college athlete, I have always had high expectations for myself. I am used to structure, discipline, feedback, competition, and constantly trying to get better. For most of my life, there was always a next practice, a next game, a next season, or a next goal.
After graduation, that mindset does not just disappear. If anything, it follows you into a world where the scoreboard looks different. Instead of points and stats, it becomes job titles, salaries, promotions, and how put together you are.
And if you are someone who likes to achieve, improve, and do things well, it can be hard not to measure yourself against all of it.
For me, it has been hard to accept that I cannot rush every part of growth. I want all the answers now. I want to feel like I am doing enough now. I want to know what my life will look like in a year from now, now.
But the real world moves differently than the world I was used to.
In some ways, it feels slower. There is no season schedule, no instant result, no clear finish line. Growth happens quietly. You learn through meetings, mistakes, feedback, and days where you simply show up and try again.
But at the same time, it feels like everything is moving too fast. Everyone seems to be moving cities, getting promoted, making big life updates, and figuring out adulthood faster than you are.
That is where comparison starts to sneak in.
And in today’s social media age, it feels almost impossible not to compare (which is ironic considering I work in social media). I understand that what we see online is curated. I know that people share the polished version, the highlights. But knowing that does not always make it easier.
It is still easy to look at someone else’s highlight reel and start questioning your own behind-the-scenes. It is easy to see someone else’s announcement and wonder if you should be doing more. It is easy to compare your pace, your progress, your career, and your life to someone else’s carefully selected moment.
I have heard the phrase “comparison is the thief of joy” so many times. But I don’t think I fully understood it until this year.
Comparison does not always feel like jealousy. Sometimes it feels like pressure. Sometimes it feels like overthinking. Sometimes it feels like being proud of someone else while quietly wondering if you are falling behind. Sometimes it feels like rushing yourself through a season you are supposed to be learning from.
That has been one of the biggest lessons of my first year after graduation: most people’s lives are not as glamorous as they look from the outside.
Everyone is figuring something out. Everyone has questions. Everyone has moments of doubt. Everyone has parts of their life that are not posted, captioned, or shared. We just don’t always see them. And because we don’t see them, we assume we are the only ones still trying to catch up.
But I am learning that I do not need to catch up to anyone else. I need to run my own race.
As an athlete, “run your own race” used to sound simple. Stay in your lane. Trust your training. Focus on what you can control.
But after graduation, I have realized that living that out is a lot harder than saying it.
It means slowing down when I want to rush. It means reminding myself that someone else’s timeline does not make mine wrong. It means accepting that I do not have to be perfect, polished, or completely sure of myself to still be growing.
One year in, I still compare. I still put pressure on myself. I still catch myself thinking I should be doing more, moving faster, or have more figured out by now.
But I am learning that growth is not supposed to look perfect.
Sometimes it looks like taking a breath and slowing down, asking the question, making the mistake, learning the lesson, and showing up again.
The first year after graduation is weird because you are building a life while still learning how to live it. But maybe that is the whole point. You don’t have to have everything figured out, and that’s okay.
I am learning that running my own race does not mean doing it alone. I am grateful to be starting my career at Cornerstone Executive Search, where I have been supported, challenged, and encouraged as I learn, grow, and find my pace. Here’s to year two!
