Unceremonious Ends
Closure is a myth
It was such an amazing experience. I wasn’t prepared for how I would feel when it was over.
I could be talking about anything. What came to mind when you read those two sentences? Finding a new job? Wrapping up a bucket list adventure? Building a friendship?
My first ever bike tour was a ride across New York State from Buffalo to New York City. I met with friends almost every day along the route. It reminded me what I love so much about the world. But then it ended. I was alone in Battery Park, with this picture of a break in the clouds over the Statue of Liberty being the only proof that I completed the trip. No picture of myself, no picture of my bike, and no one waiting to celebrate with me.
It was an unceremonious end.
It happened again a year later. Seven days biking around Vermont’s Green Mountains, visiting world-renowned breweries and camping alongside lakes and forests, ended on the side of a local highway at the worst brewery of the trip. Our group was falling apart, knee pain, bike failures, and pure exhaustion. By the end, most of us were ready to be done.
It was an unceremonious end.
I had known exactly which graduate school program I wanted to pursue from the moment I finished undergrad in 2018. Covid put those plans on hold, but in 2024 I made good on the promise I made to myself. I researched carbon storage in sub-arctic ecosystems in Iceland, I developed seagrass management plans in Zanzibar, I analyzed the lobster supply chain and updated tuna fishing regulations in Seychelles. Then, the collapse of global aid in 2025 took away my tentative job offer and destroyed the job market for environmental professionals. It’s been one whole year now, and I’m further away from doing good work than I have been since I was 18 years old.
It was an unceremonious end.
Growing up, celebrations are built into our lives by the people who care about us. Kindergarten graduation, birthday parties, youth sporting events, and whatever else you can think up. I have been responsible for celebrating myself since wrapping up undergrad, and I haven’t been very good at it.
But the last year has been incredibly tough, and it has started to change my outlook. There does not need to be a balance between the level of an accomplishment and the level of the celebration that follows. I have found so much joy in celebrating the mundane while lowering my expectations for “big things” and major milestones. Perhaps “joy” isn’t the correct word and instead “contentment” is what I’m feeling. It’s the difference between happiness and acceptance. I have chased joy in the past without appreciating and accepting the beautiful parts of my life. Fuck, I spent six months in East Africa last year and now, over a year later, I am only just starting to appreciate my experience. I wasn’t happy while I was there, but I was content. I should have appreciated my situation more while I was in the moment.
You’ve probably heard some version of this metaphor, life being a series of flames. Some start slow but burn for years, while others burn fast and bright and fade just as quickly as they began. That’s life: travel, work, relationships. Each flame has a purpose. Each flame eventually goes out.
I met someone a few years ago. We hit it off instantly, found out we were neighbors, and became fast friends. Shared interests in mushroom foraging and fostering cats made it easy to stay friends. But we met during the most geographically stable point in my life. They never knew me as I truly am, as someone who paused their vagabond-like lifestyle to make it through Covid.
Our friendship ended this year, a flame that went out just as quickly as it sparked. I won’t go into details out of respect for them. But there was no big discussion. There was no big event. It was just an imbalance. We stopped talking and making time for each other. It was difficult coming to terms with the idea that someone I had grown so close with could drop out of my life without a real reason. Losing a friend who I thought would stick around has been worse than any romantic heartbreak I’ve gone through. But each flame has its purpose. This one burned fast and bright and left no trace when it went out. That doesn’t make it any less valuable.
It was an unceremonious end. And that’s okay.