Hey, there. How’s it going? Good? Good.

Okay, how’s it really going? I know you have only six to seven weeks left in your last semester of college, depending on how you count it and depending on how intent you are on pretending this isn’t happening. You lay in bed “just because it’s raining” and wonder how long that will remain something you can legitimately do. You seem a little burnt-out. (You definitely are.)

You thought you were the kind of person who would find your last few weeks to be smooth sailin’. Yeah, you get it: you are still at the beginning of your life and work, you will stay connected to the people you have known and loved, and yes, you will someday take an afternoon nap again.

You do know these things, but you also have feelings, like a normal human. Congratulations. Let me break it to you: it is okay to feel sad. It is okay to feel worried about what’s next. It is okay to look back on your choices and wish you made some different ones. It is okay, it is okay, it is okay.

You think a lot about what it means to be coming to the end of the activist campaign you started with some of your best friends four years ago. Many of those people are not even involved now. There are wonderful, younger people in their place who give you faith that the fight will continue…(and they actually don’t need you to be there at all, you special snowflake). But, still. What does it mean to have poured your blood, sweat, and tears into something for the past four years and walk away? Just like every trite piece on people below the age of 30 points out, that’s almost a fifth of your life.

I just want you to keep a few things in mind, pieces of which you’ve been told by smart people at dinner tables, in subway cars, and in long text messages when you say you “don’t know what to do:”

First, it’s not all about you. If you won the campaign, you wouldn’t take credit for the whole thing…because that would be inaccurate. If you “lose” the campaign, whatever that means, you can’t take credit for that either. You are one small person, who cares a lot, in a big world with a lot of problems. You are not going to shut down the fossil fuel industry on your own. You are not going to save the world. That should be more of a relief than anything. Since you can’t be a hero, the best possible outcome is to be a witness to the magic that happens when people come together to fight for each other.

(Hopefully, a helpful witness. Not the kind of witness who interrupts people and eats all the free pizza and leaves.)

Manage your energy, not your time. It’s kind of a paradox. On one hand, there will never be enough time to do all that you want to do. On the other, time is flexible — you can always push a deadline or re-shape your plans to fit in the time that you have. If you don’t have time, you can make it. If you don’t have the energy, you’re stuck. If you don’t take care of yourself health-wise, if you don’t actively seek out the inspiration and connection that keeps you motivated, if you don’t make room for joy in a line of work that is really stressful…you won’t show up in a way that’s useful to you or anyone else. You won’t have breakthroughs. You won’t have the emotional capacity to empathize with your opposition. You won’t be able to rally a crowd. Actively put effort into feeling healthy and positive whenever possible, and the time you do dedicate to work will be well-spent.

If you’re going to dwell, dwell on (and learn from) your actions rather than your outcomes. You could run a “perfect” campaign, whatever that means to you, forgoing all other commitments, and you may still not get your demands met for a variety of reasons. Your outcomes are not completely under your control. But you make the best decisions you can, with what you have, where you are (thanks, Teddy). Reflect, make some adjustments, and keep going.

You don’t know what all of the outcomes are, and you may never know. That person who came to one meeting and never came back, whom you kick yourself for not connecting with? They weren’t ready to work on the campaign this semester. In two years, they may look back to that one meeting, quit their job, and become an inspiring organizer in their own right. That administrator who blocked your demands at every path? They may go home to their spouse and say, “Damn, I know they’re right…but I just can’t bring myself to fight for it.” Those thousands of weekly newsletter emails you sent out, that you thought no one reads? Some alum may be reading them every week, thinking that our generation may not be totally apathetic and that maybe our world isn’t completely screwed.

You are capable of more than this. Being a student activist does not have to be the end of your engagement with the world. You have done a good job of leveraging your unique identity as a student to access the power and privilege that comes with your institution, and you have shifted it — even if slightly, you have moved a behemoth. When you are no longer a student at this particular institution, you will form a new identity and become part of a new community and a new fight for change — even if it looks different from handing out petitions on College Walk. That is who you are. You couldn’t stop doing it if you tried.

Most of all, you are not your campaign victories. There are a lot more questions to ask yourself than “Am I winning?”—am I learning and trying new things? Am I surrounded by people I can rely on, who rely on me? Am I doing that self-care thing? Do I help people become who they want to be? Are my actions aligned with my values? Am I having fun (*gasp*)?

You simply cannot stake your self-worth on winning or losing. Thinking that way is not going to inspire you to continue the work; that kind of outlook will only push you to seek out easy victories.