Hello everyone, and welcome to Adventures in Academia, the podcast for older-than-average university students. I'm your host, Kristie Bradfield.

Well, it has been a long time between episodes, longer than I anticipated, but to be very honest with you, the first half of this year has been really difficult. As I mentioned in the last episode, I'm undertaking my Psychology Honours degree this year, and it has been a harder experience than I ever could have imagined. I'll be talking about it more in an upcoming episode, but this is pretty much the first time that I've had to stop, decompress and reflect. There is a lot to reflect on in regard to Honours, but for now, I'm halfway done. My research project is coming along, and I'm working on the first draft of my thesis, so things are moving. But I'll be talking more about what the process has been like in a future episode.

Today's episode is all about graduation.

So, if you've listened to previous episodes, you'll know that I completed a double major in psychology and criminology in October of last year. I can remember, really vividly, what it felt like to submit my last ever assessment for my undergrad. I did cry a little, just a few tears, because there were so many times when I thought I'll never complete this degree. I began in 2014, and when you're doing one or two units a semester, it feels like it will never end. But when I finished it, I don't really think that I gave myself a lot of time to think about what that meant. I'm not really one to celebrate my achievements, it's usually just finish and move on to the next thing. It's always made me feel a little uncomfortable to draw attention to things that I did or do well. And that is a real shame because when you work hard, and you achieve a goal, especially something that you have worked towards for such a long time, to not celebrate that, it's almost a little disrespectful to yourself, I guess. So I didn't really celebrate when I finished all my coursework because my mind turned to the Honours process pretty much immediately.

In December, I got a phone call that changed what graduation would be like for me. I was asked to give the Graduate speech at my ceremony. I was shocked when I got that phone call because even though I had made a conscious effort to connect and get to know people at my university, I was an online student my whole degree. I never had on-campus lectures or tutorials, so to be chosen to give the Grad speech was crazy. I said yes immediately, and I began working on my speech that afternoon. The speech only had to be 3 or 4 minutes, and I'd done public speaking throughout high school, so being in front of a crowd, to speak, has never been a problem. But, it wasn't until after I had a chance to think about what I'd agreed to did it really hit me. As I've spoken about before, I lived a large chunk of the last decade with social anxiety and agoraphobia, and while I had made a lot of progress, I was conscious of the enormity of what I was asking of myself. I had to not only walk across the stage to get my parchment, but I was going to have to sit on stage and speak to a room full of people. At no point did I ever consider not doing it, but I was anxious pretty much from the moment I got that phone call. I thought about my Mum and my sister-in-law, Bec, and I thought about how they aren't here anymore, and they don't get the opportunity to do these things, even scary things, I knew they would both have given anything to still be here and so I made a promise to them that I will do things, even they are hard and if I can't do the hard for myself, I'll do the hard thing for them. And so I did. I worked on my speech for six weeks, and on the morning of the ceremony, I was able to recite it by heart.

I went up to Uni in late January and got my regalia. It was in the heat of summer, and it was just a room with hundreds of gowns. I had to pick up my ticket for the ceremony, and they couldn't find my name, which worried me because I'd been expecting something to happen, something to prevent me from graduating. Eventually the lady looked at a list and said, "Oh you're the graduate speaker!" she was beaming, and she told the lady standing next to her "She's the graduate speaker", and they both congratulated me and told me that I was a member of the official party, so I didn't need a ticket. And I think it hit me then. That graduation was almost here, and it was a big deal. People were really excited, and it was okay for me to be excited too. 

The day of my graduation came, and I was a nervous wreck. The speaking in front of people wasn't really concerning me, it was more being around that many people. Being seen by that many people. I couldn't wait for it to be over, for it to be done. But I was really conscious of trying to take it all in. I'm not one for fancy anything so I dressed for comfort and my sister and my nieces came around and straightened my hair and painted my nails. I was leaving putting on my regalia until the very last minute because I knew I had to walk a fair way and would get sweaty. I remember being a real bundle of nerves. When we got to the Convention Centre, it was packed. Graduation ceremonies for the different schools had been taking place all weekend, and the School of Arts and Humanities was the last. We had to park quite a way from the theatre, and it dawned on me then that I wouldn't have been able to do what I was doing two years ago. I wouldn't have been able to walk the three or four hundred metres from the parking space to the theatre. So even if, for some reason, I was only able to do that, I had accomplished something that was huge. I got inside, put my robe and mortarboard on, hugged Tony, and found the room backstage where I asked to go. I sat backstage for a couple of minutes, a lovely young man came and got me and gave me a run through of the ceremony. I was supposed to walk down the centre aisle with the formal procession, but that wasn't going to work for me because I need a rail or something to hold on to when I walk down stairs, so I was able to join the procession at the last moment. I stood backstage and waited until the final moment before I walked on stage and took my seat.

It was a weird feeling, being on stage. It reminded me of all the times I was onstage in high school. I was president of the student council at my high school and spoke a lot at assemblies. It's a privileged view. It's different to what most people experience. I got to see a big-picture view of graduation. It was exciting to watch people walk across the stage. It made me smile when family members yelled and cheered. It made me a little sad thinking that my Mum wasn't there to see that I'd finally finished. I really wish that she could have seen it.

Experiencing the event that I had been envisioning for years was truly an out-of-body experience. I visualised walking across the stage at graduation to help motivate me in moments when I felt defeated or unsure if I should continue. I visualised what it would feel like to actually finish my degree. And living it, actually doing it, walking across the stage, a graduate, was the proudest moment of my life. Everything that had come before it, all the pain and insecurity and anxiety and false starts and failures and confidence knocks, had led me to where I was. Don't ever discount how much you learn from the journey. I've found it provides the most important lessons of all. The struggles teach us more about ourselves than we realise, and every time you dust yourself off and start again, it builds strength and resilience, even if you don't realise it at the time.

I returned to my seat after getting my parchment, and it quickly dawned on me that I would speak very soon. The butterflies in my stomach were fluttering with reckless abandon, and my heart was galloping. When I was called to the podium, my mouth was bone dry, but I put one foot in front of the other and reached the centre of the stage. I took a deep breath, looked out into an audience of faces, and began. I knew my speech by heart, which was good because I didn't have my glasses on and could barely make out the words I'd written. I spoke about the journey that we all go through when we pursue a degree and how it can feel never-ending. I spoke about the support we have from the people around us and how we couldn't really do what we do without them. And I spoke about how education changes the way we look at the world. I threw in a little witty remark about APA referencing because it is the bane of everyone's existence, and it got a laugh, which made me really happy. When I finished, people clapped. I did a good job, and I was relieved. 

I started my degree when I was 40. I graduated when I was 49. I have changed so much in the last decade due to my education. My graduation meant more to me than just finishing my degree. It connected me with myself - a person I lost for a long time. I built myself back up again, from the ground up, bit by bit and while I'm still very much a work in progress, I have a really solid foundation to build upon now.

My graduation meant more than a final checkbox on a to-do list. It signified everything I'd worked so hard for in therapy, life, and, of course, my studies. It signified the next step on a road that I never knew existed. It was a way to tell the world I'm still here, despite everything, and I may be 50 now, but I'm not going anywhere. And I deserve to be here.

Thank you so much for joining me for this month's podcast. 

I would love to hear from you if you're an older-than-average student. You can send a voice memo about anything to do with university study to memos@adventuresinacademia.com. And while you're at it, don't forget to subscribe to the podcast and leave a review. 

In the next episode of Adventures in Academia, I'll be talking about the  things that I wish I knew before starting Psychology Honours. I hope you can join me then. 

Until next month, happy studying!