As a college student, especially one who is just a short 5 classes away from turning my tassel and walking across the stage, I get the question, “So what are you doing after graduation?” a lot. Like, a lot a lot. I get asked about my major and when I respond they often want to know where I want to live, what I want to do, and what company I want to do it for. And you know what? Much to their dismay I have 0 of those answers. Honestly, I can barely even name a job title that comes with a marketing degree much less what company has the best 401k and which city’s industry is booming the most.

Going to UF,  I live in a culture of competition. From sports to extra curriculars, we have to be the best. Sometimes it feels like I’ve signed up for four years of “who has the best summer internship?” and “who can spread themselves the thinnest amongst 15 different student organizations?” It can be overwhelming when everyday we’re all-but-told that who we are is what we do. We are the clubs we’re in. We are the internships we get, and we are the careers we start. We become those things because we pour every ounce of ourselves into them. And pretty soon, we forget the girl who was okay with not knowing what she wanted to do because now she’s forced the issue. We forget the guy who just really loved his major for what it was because his entire identity has become that major. We forget who we are because “who we are” has become synonymous with “what we do.”

Do I sound like I have it all figured out yet? Like I’ve seamlessly mastered the system? Good. I’ll go ahead and burst that bubble.

I’ve just wrapped up my junior year and instead of going off to work 40 hours a week for 3 months at a glamorous ad agency or marketing firm in NYC or LA, I’m spending my summer at home in the Florida panhandle doing virtually nothing that is furthering my future career. And trust me, it’s not because I wanted to. For the last 5 months I applied for internship after internship. I began reaching out directly to marketing firms around the country with the hope of finding anything that could put me on the map. I got sucked into hours-long blackholes of internship applications and LinkedIn searches. I tried so hard because the idea of failing at this did not just mean I failed, it meant that I was a failure. Because the rejection from firm after firm was not simply a rejection of my strategically formatted resume and fine-tuned cover letter, it was a rejection of me as a person.

There’s a great chance you’re reading this and I sound crazy, and, trust me, I fully am aware of how dramatic I sound. But this is the culture that I and so many other college students, at UF and elsewhere, don’t want to admit that we find ourselves in: the idea that our careers will make or break us, and that the amount of work we put in during these four years is somehow a measure of our person. A measure of our potential. A measure of our capability. A measure of me.

If that were true, what a sad life this would be. If each “no” had the power to diminish us, to tear us down until we withered away into nothingness, what kind of world would that be? If every hour we didn’t spend working towards a career was one less hour we were truly living, how backwards would that seem?

Knowing what a boring and unfulfilling life that would bring me has reminded me of this fundamental idea that I intend to spend my summer putting in to practice: who I am is so much greater than what I do.

Who I am is not my failed internship search. Who I am is not the clubs I’ve joined (or avoided joining) at school. Who I am is not the studying I do, the exams I take, or the letters on my transcript.

Who I am is the way I treat my friends, family, roommates, and strangers regardless of circumstance. Who I am is what drives me to be the best person I can be. Who I am is the love I have for the people around me, the things I say, and the thoughts in my head. Who I am is the daughter of a King who doesn’t even blink at the failures I face in my life.

What is comes down to, really, is at the end of this story, no one will really care what career you had, how much money you made, or where you spent your summer of 2018. Those things will all fall away. They’ll care so much more about who you were. If you loved with your whole heart, if you tried regardless of outcome, if you showed Christ to this really hard, dark world. Those are the things I want to be known for and I want to become.

School is important, and the things we do with our lives really do matter. But, who we are as people is so much more important. So this summer, regardless of what you’re doing with your life (especially if you’re like me and have literally no idea) remember that it has no hold on and ultimately pales in comparison to who you are.

Who you are is greater than what you do.