The new year has begun, and already, campus lawns are alive with the murmur of anticipation. Backpacks and tote bags are slung over shoulders; caffeine intake has doubled in consumption. For many, the first day of university feels monumental – a gateway to the rest of their lives. But beneath the excitement lies an undercurrent of unease. Did I choose the right degree? Am I in the right place? Have I already made a mistake?
Starting tertiary study is like standing on the threshold of a grand, unknowable maze. The paths ahead twist and overlap, each one whispering a different future. This feeling of being caught between decisions, of not knowing which path to take, reminds me of Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar and her famous fig tree metaphor:
I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet, and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.
It’s a discouraging image. The idea that life’s opportunities are infinite, that the act of choosing closes doors, can feel paralysing. Many of us arrive at university clutching expectations, whether that be our own, our family’s, or society’s. We’re told that the degree we choose now will dictate our trajectory, that every decision must be precise, calculated, correct. But how can you make the “right” choice when you’re still figuring out who you are?
The beauty of Plath’s fig tree, though, is not just in its warning but in its inherent comfort. It reminds us that while figs may wrinkle and fall, new ones will always grow. Life is not a single tree with limited branches; it’s a forest, ever-expanding and regenerating. The choices you make now, whether you stay in your degree, switch halfway through, or pivot entirely, don’t have to define you forever. The idea of getting it wrong is only terrifying if you’re unwilling to start again.
When I first started uni, I chose a path that seemed logical, even impressive. But it didn’t feel right. Every lecture felt like a rock in my shoe, uncomfortable and hard to ignore. I questioned myself constantly: was I ungrateful for this opportunity? Was I weak for not seeing it through? It took me six months and many quiet moments of self-reflection to realise that leaving that course wasn’t failure; it was growth. I climbed down one branch and reached for another fig. And I was happier for it.
If you’re just starting uni, or even if you’re midway through and grappling with doubt, know this: there is no singular “right” decision. There’s only the decision you make now and the willingness to adapt as you go. Life isn’t as rigid as we’re often led to believe. Your identity and passions are fluid, and your journey will twist and turn in ways you can’t yet imagine.
So, if you’re feeling lost, if the weight of that fig tree is pressing down on your shoulders, take a breath. You don’t have to have it all figured out today, or tomorrow, or even next year. Let yourself wander a little. Try things out. Learn to relish the uncertainty, because it’s in those moments of discomfort that you’ll discover who you really are.
The figs will come and go, and that’s okay. The tree is yours to climb, there’s always another branch to reach for.
