Three Years After Graduation: A Second Look#

A sudden urge to write — to capture the shifts in my mindset over the three years since graduating.

It seems we always put a filter over our past environments and stages of life. In university, I compared it to vocational school. Fresh out of college, I compared it to campus. After switching companies, I started comparing the new one to the old. The good things about a new environment never quite hit as hard, while the bad parts of the old one get romanticized over time — because those unpleasant things no longer poke at you every day. Meanwhile, the downsides of the present, sharpened by contrast, loom larger than they really are.

So now, looking back at university, I think of myself back then as someone who was remarkably disciplined.

But if I’m being honest, that’s not the whole story.

During those three years in college, my environment was fairly stable — nothing like the constant change I experience now. Where I went each day, where I sat, who I saw, what I did — it all followed a steady rhythm. And when your environment is stable, habits settle in naturally.

For example, I used to bring my laptop to the library every day. The library had limited power outlets, so to secure a spot with one, I gradually found a very concrete reason to wake up early.

It wasn’t that I loved waking up early. It was that I knew if I went later, there’d be no outlet left.

Looking back, that’s pretty interesting.

A lot of so-called discipline isn’t born out of sheer willpower. You need a reason, a stable environment, something that gives you immediate feedback. Back in university, I went to the library every day, got to know the regulars, and eventually even landed a part-time job there because I was always around.

The job was simple — cleaning up before the library closed. Thirteen yuan an hour, but it was easy, took about ten minutes, and let me stay a little longer in the library every day.

On top of that, the campus was locked down during the pandemic, so there wasn’t anywhere else to go anyway. I worked almost every single month.

I even interviewed for a librarian position later on.

But my family’s business was busy at the time, and they thought the pay was too low. They couldn’t understand why I’d spend time on something like that, so they talked me out of it. I never explained the real reason to the teacher who interviewed me. Looking back, I still feel a bit bad about it — the teacher probably thought I’d just flaked after passing the interview.

Now, when I look back, life was really simple back then.

Every day, I went to the library. I had a fixed spot, familiar faces, books to read, online courses to study, and my own things to work on. Around 9<30> PM, I’d finish cleaning the library and go out for a five-kilometer run.

The feeling after those runs was incredible. My body was tired, but my mind felt amazing.

Now, if someone told me to run five kilometers at 9<30> PM, I’d first think about what time I’d finish work, then whether I had anything else to do at home, then probably end up sitting on my bed scrolling through my phone, telling myself I’ll run tomorrow.

Your environment really changes you.

I used to think discipline was mostly about willpower. Now I’m increasingly convinced that environment plays a much bigger role.

There’s a saying: “Heaven’s timing, earthly advantage, human harmony.” I used to understand it superficially, but now I believe “earthly advantage” is exactly that — your environment. When you’re in a good environment, human effort becomes exponentially more effective. The environment itself helps you form habits.

When the environment isn’t right, you need to expend much more “human harmony” just to push against the current.

I didn’t truly understand this until after graduation.

In the first six months after graduating, I tried to maintain the lifestyle I had in university. I thought, if I could run, study, and read every day back then, surely I could do the same while working.

But reality hit hard. Work drained most of my energy, and overtime was not uncommon. By the time I got home, there was hardly any time left that truly belonged to me. So to reclaim some of that time, I started staying up late.

At first, it was just a little later. Slowly, it became later and later.

The most ironic part? I used to think “going to bed early” was the most natural thing in the world. Then I realized I’d lost even that most basic form of discipline.

I even forced myself to keep exercising during those first six months. But then my chest started hurting — a pain that lasted for months before gradually fading. I had no idea what was wrong at the time. Looking back, I think I was experiencing a kind of inner burnout — maybe even a somatic manifestation of emotional and psychological stress.

The old me would have just said I wasn’t trying hard enough.

Now I can’t help but wonder: maybe it wasn’t about persistence. Maybe the environment itself was constantly draining me.

In university, finishing my cleaning at 9<30> PM and going for a five-kilometer run felt amazing.

After graduation, the same routine felt like a chore I had to grit my teeth through.

These two versions of “discipline” looked the same on the surface, but they were completely different states of being.

Now, sitting at a desk all day, I exercise less, my weight has crept up, and my digestion has gotten worse.

But here’s the funny thing: when I go home for a long holiday, eating and drinking without a care, doing nothing productive — theoretically less healthy — I actually lose a bit of weight and my stomach feels better.

This has made me realize that our bodies and minds are more honest than we give them credit for.

They know whether you’re tired or comfortable long before your brain does.

So now, looking back at my university self, I feel a mix of emotions.

I envy that version of me.

He could go to the library every day, immerse himself in books, watch online courses, run, and slowly build good habits.

But I also know that version of me had his own pressures.

I wasn’t exactly carefree when I woke up each morning back then. It’s just that, years later, the daily stress has faded, and what’s left are the beautiful memories.

Maybe that’s why we always put a filter on the past.

I still go to the library occasionally.

But one thing has changed noticeably: I can’t stay focused as long as I used to.

Back then, I could sit for hours — reading slowly, learning at my own pace.

Now, after a short while, my mind starts wandering to my phone, to other things, to work.

It’s in moments like these that I realize how much more those university years left me than I ever knew at the time.

I watched countless courses and read many books back then — etiquette, public speaking, communication, and a lot of professional knowledge.

At the time, I thought I was just “learning.”

But after graduation, I discovered that some of those things have been quietly shaping me ever since.

My professional knowledge, in particular, continues to benefit me to this day.

Sometimes I suddenly notice that the way I handle a situation, communicate with someone, or choose my words — it all traces back to those seemingly useless accumulations from university.

I used to think of them as “techniques.”

How to learn, how to express yourself, how to manage time, how to improve yourself — all techniques.

But now I feel that the things that truly stay with you don’t announce themselves.

The ideas that have genuinely become part of you don’t remind you every day, “I am now practicing this principle.”

They’ve become part of who you are.

What society and the workplace have taught me is different.

If university taught me how to enrich myself, accumulate knowledge, and build foundational habits, then entering society taught me about boundaries.

Back in school, relationships were simple.

You went to class together, ate together, went to the library together — sometimes you spent most of your day in the same circle.

After entering society, I realized that people need boundaries.

What to say, what not to say. What to help with, what not to take on. How to separate work and life. The difference between others’ expectations of you and your own responsibilities.

These aren’t things you can learn directly from a university textbook.

But society will teach you — fast.

It’s just that society’s lessons are rarely as gentle as the library’s.

Three years after graduation, I’ve noticed myself being gradually assimilated by my environment.

Sometimes, reflecting on how I handle things, I even catch traces of behaviors I used to criticize as “bureaucratic” or “phony.”

That’s actually quite interesting.

I used to stand on the sidelines and judge others — “How can this person be like this?”

Then one day, I realized I was starting to act the same way.

That’s just how it is.

You think you’re observing your environment, but your environment is also observing you — slowly, piece by piece, turning you into part of it.

So now I find myself agreeing more and more with the importance of environment.

Of course, you can’t blame everything on your environment.

A bad environment doesn’t mean you have to go with the flow.

But if an environment is slowly making you less like yourself, it’s worth asking: is it really you who’s the problem, or is the environment simply not right for you?

Sometimes we feel we’re not disciplined enough, not hardworking enough, not ambitious enough, and we keep piling on expectations.

But maybe what we really need to do isn’t just push ourselves harder — it’s to change our environment.

Because in a good environment, your efforts multiply. In a bad one, you’re spending all your willpower just fighting the current.

In the end, it comes back to you.

We want too much and do too little.

And more often than not, what we think we want isn’t really what we want.

It’s what society told you to want. What your parents told you. What your relatives and friends expected.

How much money you should make, what position you should reach, how you should live, when you should get married, how excellent you should become.

With all these “shoulds” piling up, it’s easy to forget the simplest question:

What do I actually want?

Three years after graduation, I haven’t found the answer.

In fact, I feel like I’ve only just started learning to ask the question.

I hope that from now on, in my actions and my dealings with others, I can have fewer “what others think I should do” and more “what I truly want to do.”

The pure “me” might not be someone completely free from environmental influence. Rather, it’s someone who, even after being shaped by the environment, can still tell the difference:

What I truly want.

What others want me to have.

What’s worth holding onto.

What I can let go of.

What those three years in university taught me is still shaping me today.

Three years after graduation, I think what I want to learn is no longer more “techniques.”

It’s to slowly hold onto what truly matters, and find an environment that fits.

And then — become the person I truly want to be.