Hi, my name is Vaibhavi Goyal, and welcome to Choose Fullness.

One of the most foolproof ways to receive sympathy is by telling people I’m unsure what I want to do with my degree. I’m immediately met with remarks like “don’t worry, you’ll figure it out” or “trust in God’s plan for your life.” Every time, I can guarantee an influx of these reassurances that seem encouraging to others but honestly feel kind of meaningless to me. It’s not that I don’t appreciate their empathy, I’m genuinely grateful that Josh, the finance major with a job offer already lined up, takes the time to say he understands what I’m going through. It’s just that I’m not really going through anything? I’m not particularly bothered that I don’t know exactly what my career trajectory looks like right now. That uncertainty doesn’t upset me and honestly, it’s not even at the top of my list of concerns.

Over the summer, I was driving down a familiar road in my hometown when I reached a roundabout and, for some reason, time escaped from me. There was nothing particularly special about the view, but the way the sun was hitting the greenery struck me. I wanted to park my car right there and just exist in that moment. I didn’t want to go anywhere or do anything, I just wanted to be. And it wasn’t because something big had happened or I was feeling emotional or lost, it was because the ordinary suddenly looked like magic. These trees I’d passed a hundred times, on a road I’ve driven without thinking, were now so unbelievably beautiful. I think it’s like when we stare at a sunset, we don’t stop and ask ourselves how the colors got there or why they melt into each other so perfectly. We just look, because we know it won’t last, and we want to catch as much of it as we can before it fades.

I do think curiosity is important. Asking questions and seeking answers is part of what makes us human, and there’s so much value in wanting to understand how and why things work the way they do. But I also believe some moments are just meant to be lived. They’re meant to pull us into presence, to remind us that our bodies and souls are deeply connected to the world around us, and that not everything needs to be figured out right away. Sometimes, you just need to be inside the wave. Not outside it, not analyzing it, not planning your way through it. Just in it, feeling it all as it comes.

So when it comes to my future career, it’s not that I’ve completely turned off my curiosity. I still take initiative, I still meet people for coffee and shadow professionals and explore paths that might excite me. But I also know that, right now, I’m in a season of awe. A season where I’m soaking up the abundance of learning and growth that comes from simply being around others, hearing their stories, and letting myself evolve without forcing answers. I know I’ll graduate with a degree, and I’ll find myself in a job, probably many jobs over time, and that’s all good and fine. But what’s also good is this time I’ve given myself to grow into the person I’m becoming without trying to fast-track it or define it by a title.

When this season is over, I know I’ll be grateful that I let it be what it was. That I didn’t waste time obsessing over what I didn’t know yet, and instead paid attention to the things that were right in front of me. I’ll be glad I gave myself permission to learn, not just about work or career paths, but about who I am when I’m not trying to prove anything. Because those are the moments that matter, and they don’t come around twice.

I also think it’s interesting how people say things like “your degree doesn’t even matter that much” or “it doesn’t define you,” and while I agree, I can’t help but notice how those comments never seem to line up with their actions. Because if my degree really doesn’t matter that much, then why is the first question always “what’s your major?” or “how do you plan to use it?” Those questions come way before anything like “what are you passionate about?” or “what do you love to do?” We’re told not to place our worth in our grades or let our identities revolve around our studies, but it’s hard to fully believe that when the world still treats those things like the most important parts of us.

That’s why this shift in mindset, this release from external definitions, has felt so big for me. Even in my last post, I talked about how much anxiety I’ve felt from not knowing, and how often I’ve tried to fix that with overthinking and obsessive planning. But now, when I look at my life, I don’t feel that panic anymore. I feel calm and I know I have the chance to live this moment fully and let it shape me without trying to control it. And I know that when I walk away from this chapter, I’ll do so without regrets. 

My heart feels full in the most unexpected way, not from clarity or answers, but from the beauty that lives in the unknown. And maybe that sounds cliché, but it’s only cliché until it’s your real life. I think getting to embrace the journey for real, without trying to speed through it, is one of the greatest gifts we can give ourselves. So maybe next time we see Josh’s LinkedIn post about locking in his 2029 commitment to J.P. Morgan, we remind ourselves that he might be missing out on something too. Something softer, quieter, but maybe even more meaningful.

So remember—your glass is full. Whether you see it that way is up to you.