There are countless iconic moments in the Pixar film ‘Finding Nemo’. Although it came out 14 years ago, it remains vivid in my memory and to a lot of the public. As with any children’s animated film, there is an unspeakable iron-clad clause in the contract stipulating that the following years after a first watch, it must be unbearable for parents and adults.
To some it may have been the refrain of Dory’s ‘just keep swimming’ or to others it may have been the seagulls chant of ‘MINE, MINE, MINE’ (my personal favourite and one I still bring out from time to time to annoy my parents).
But if there is a single image that stands out to me the most now as an adult, it would be that moment when the fish have just escaped and are floating in their plastic bags in the Sydney harbour.
You get the picture.
As a kid, that kind of sentence would’ve proven to be the type of slapstick Top Gear comedy that had me in stitches. The scene has stood the test of time as its notoriety as a GIF or a meme, whether people like it or not.
Fast forward to my early twenties, those two words suddenly take on a whole other meaning. NOW WHAT? Or more accurately –
NOW THE £*%%EDITORCONTENT%%amp;! WHAT.
Having just graduated, I don’t think there is a sentence that could work better to describe how I am feeling right now.
Growing up there had always been a clear plan and future. As for many people, it may have looked like this:
- Go to school and do homework
- Go to school and do more homework
- Do your GCSES
- Do your fifty ‘relevant’ extra curriculars
- (and ‘relevant’ work experience)
- Do your A levels
- Go to University
- Get a graduate job and have a glistening career….
- ……. until you retire at the ripe old age of 90
- (Oh. And have a life in between)
I was sure of myself in the way a teenager is. I knew what subjects I liked, so knew what GCSEs to take. I figured out what I wanted to do as a career, so I knew the right A-levels to take. I found the right university course and was on that sure-fire trajectory to a glittering career in industry that I and everyone around me had high hopes for (because once an over-achiever, always an over achiever amirite?).
But there was one inevitability that I had never accounted for, nor was I ever really warned about in pursuit of what my head said was right. What happens when you finish your degree…… and you no longer want to pursue the career you have invested so heavily in?
All of a sudden, my fingers have slipped from the edge and I am free falling from a great height, that planned future into an abyss.
This is somewhat dramatic.
I have been very privileged to have been afforded the education and opportunity to move so seamlessly on the ladder from secondary school to university. I have been lucky enough to have ever considered that bubble would sustain me all the way through to having a successful career.
In the grand scheme of things, this is a minor setback.
However, it does not take away from being blindsided and left reeling with uncertainty. After all I am human, and I know many others who find themselves in the same boat, today, ten years ago or five years from now.
Three months on, I write this as a reflection of that experience and what I have learnt, in the hopes that it will bring some closure to myself and maybe resonate with others who also find themselves adrift.
I view the last three months in the approximation to the stages of grief. It wasn’t intended for it to happen this way, but since I mourn the end of a prominent stage in my life, it seemed rather fitting.
Stage 1 | Shock and numbness
When you accomplish something huge, in my case finishing a 16-week project, adrenaline is usually running very high and it can over spill in an excess of emotion. For some it could be relief, sadness, deliriousness or happiness. In my case, it was the lack of emotion that settled within me. I remember the moment I submitted the very last few things for the year. I was sat outside in the garden under skies painted in ‘cloudy English summertime’. My laptop was on the table and the last few things had just been submitted for the end of year degree show.
That was it, the end of my four-year degree in the midst of COVID, one that has cost me about £40k and more in the future, and my mental health to boot.
With my phone silently opened on Messenger, a lot of people wished me congratulations, said that they were jealous and that I must be relieved. I replied in kind, that yes I was, yes, I was so happy to finish. Yes, I was so happy to now do nothing. Hallelujah! I finally am a graduate.
What I couldn’t quite confess to many at that point was the hollowness in my chest. To be honest, I felt nothing. I just felt blissfully blank. I wished I had felt relieved or happy but I could not muster the energy to overcome this. Was it the disbelief that I had finally accomplished the next big thing in my life? Or was I just tired from the four months I had spent tirelessly working on this single project?
Sitting back in my garden chair, I pondered why I felt this melancholy. This was arguably the biggest achievement to date in my life. Where was that heart racing giddiness that so often heralded triumph and achievement? I should have the energy to cartwheel around the garden – despite having never done one in my life.
But the more I tried to convince myself into feeling something ‘normal’, something ugly was beginning to rear its head. This just happened to be the calm before the storm.
Stage 2 | Anger
I wouldn’t say I am someone who gets angry very easily (at least nowadays). In my view, my anger is more like a slow burn. After I have had time for the situation to sink in, it bursts out in a mess of heated emotions that leaves me with a peaceful regret when I run out of steam hours later.
This had been slow cooking for four years.
I cannot pinpoint what exactly I was angry with, so everything is an apt description. For example, I was angry at everything I couldn’t do during COVID-19 or wanted to do in my final year. I was angry at my course experience. I was angry at my project that didn’t turn out the way I wanted, and how the last four months had gone. I was angry at not having a proper graduation this summer, angry at not being able to celebrate with friends here and bygone, and mostly I was angry at myself.
I raged for a good few days to myself and to friends (apologies everyone) and it felt good to finally let it out, all shaking fists to the skies in camaraderie. I had sat on a lot of this over the past four years, during which I got through each day ignoring inconveniences because it was the easier route to get to the finish line unscathed.
The COVID-19 pandemic provided opportunity to take a breather and take stock of the fact that some things were not okay. Over the last academic year, it had seriously begun to bubble underneath the surface to reach the point I was at.
Picture a fine China bowl. Over the years it slowly began to crack but you don’t notice or you choose to ignore it. Then, CRACK! One day it falls apart and you are angry at yourself for letting it reach this point of breakage and simultaneously angry at the bowl for not holding out as it should’ve done. When you try and piece it back together, it is too late. You could try to use the bowl, but it’ll never be as it is intended for again.
I suppose that’s how I felt my whole self was like at that point. Invisible breaks on my mental and physical health, rage seeping through the cracks that echoed how I was done with university life and life in general.
Then a couple of days later, I could not get out of bed. That morning, I had my first proper lie-in for weeks.
Stage 2.5 | Intermission
Those final few weeks of June slipped by in a languid rush. In the spirit of absolute freedom to do anything (within reason because, there is still a global pandemic going on), I spent those rare sunny summer days in the garden binging the K-dramas and shows I had missed, napping on a picnic blanket and watching the Euros.
The anger and resentment slowly dissipated. I had resolved to bid goodbye to product design for the time being and not worry about a single project or deadline. I pushed aside the worries that had been cropping up for some time; worries that whispered that I should job hunt, put together portfolios and applications and fret about the next stage of my career. But these worries weighed far too heavy and felt too much like a nightmare to not take a dreamless break that so many people urged me to take.
So, I painted over those cracks and smiled because I was, of course, 100% okay.
In the spirit of tidying up the loose ends of my time at university, I began clearing out my hard-drives, organising all the files into the right folders for another rainy day. But then I pulled out the masses of A2 folders collecting dust next to my desk and began to thumb through all of the drawing sheets within them. Inexplicably, I began to cry.
Stage 3 | Depression
It was not pretty. I sat on the floor in the middle of my room sobbing and screaming, surrounded by four years of work. I hadn’t cried that hard in such a long time and all it took to burst through that meticulous paintwork was staring at projects of the past.
I found myself finally acknowledging the dreaded confession that had forced its way to the surface.
‘I’m not sure I want to do this anymore’.
Looking at it made me seriously face head-to-head with a realisation that I had ignored for a while. Although I had ‘joked’ (and not joked) how I had been put off doing product design in industry, even just weeks prior, I knew deep down inside that it started a year ago when the COVID-19 pandemic started.
The pandemic provided one small silver lining – a chance to slow down and examine life. That whole period of time in lockdown one felt surreal. It proved the ideal time to hit the reset button and question my morals, priorities and what it was that I wanted out of life. That period of time was precious, especially when I was used to sprinting through life. Through the self-analysis of the mess that were my thoughts, I came to these conclusions.
I realised that I was dreading going back to finish my final year and the thought of having to put myself through the whole process once more made me feel a bit ill. I knew I was completing everything for the sake of getting to the end.
Post degree, the thought of applying to product or industrial design jobs made me feel nauseous. The thought of having to put together a portfolio of work that I was not happy with was almost unbearable. This particular design industry didn’t appear how I thought it was, and the breakneck pace of the sector felt suffocating to even contemplate.
The emotion I felt as I realised these conclusions to be absolute felt like a part was being ripped from me. It is the feeling when you realise you have spent the last five, six years of your life putting your soul into something you thought you wanted only to have it come undone at the last moment. For a subject I had so much love and passion for, for a subject that I excelled in because it fit my skills – it felt like my heart was breaking.
All of a sudden, I was in a tailspin. I had never considered any other career bar the one I went to university for. What jobs could I get? What did I want to do anymore? Why did I feel like I didn’t have it in me to figure this out when everyone else had?
I wanted to run away from myself and this mess, but it just happened to be the middle of a pandemic where running away isn’t very easy. I needed a proper break so that one day in the future I could sift through these tangled webs with the clarity my future deserved.
So, I switched my phone off for most of July, didn’t look at social media and didn’t talk to anyone for the best part of four weeks.
Stage 4 | The 'what ifs' and reflection
For most of July, I retreated inwards in an attempt to find someone I could recognise. Part of my self-disillusionment is the symptoms of impostor syndrome that had crept up on me more often in the latter stages of my degree. I would find myself thinking that I and my work wasn’t good enough to make it in the industry. I found myself scrolling endlessly on social media to the amazing news of others excelling. The impostor-ism that usually came and went settled over me in a depressing way instead.
If I could, I would’ve thrown my phone out of the window if I still hadn’t so much of my contract left.
For all of July, I woke up, ate, slept and repeat. I didn’t want to talk to or see anybody and the days slipped by with no real beginning or end. It wasn’t healthy but I found freedom in accepting that this may be the last time for a long time I would have a break like this. The insistence from people around me that there was no rush for anything strengthened my resolve.
At night I found solace in my mind that had started to piece together answers to the question that I had asked myself since I was 15.
Where did it all go wrong?
I recounted the decisions in my life leading up to this point and thought about what happened at each time, drawing conclusions of some truths that maybe I didn’t see back then.
01
I fell into engineering by accident. I didn’t even know what it was until I was 15 and I was thrust upon an opportunity for a scholarship at a difficult time in my life. With my reluctance to go into health sciences and with the pressure that I needed a stable job to earn money, engineering could keep everyone happy. People doubted whether I could actually do it. So, I applied for this prestigious scholarship to prove them wrong.
I got one.
02
But I couldn’t handle the pressure. The achievement was crowed about across the county and expectations mounted from peers and teachers that engineering should come easily to me. After all, I had the ‘big brain’ (actual quote) to win a scholarship. Although I wasn’t too bad at maths and physics, product design was my true strength, yet there seemed to be little recognition for its relevance to engineering. Was this a sign that I didn’t have a grasp of what engineering really was?
With every flub in maths and physics, I was letting others, and ultimately myself down. But at the age of 16 as a ‘future leader in engineering’, what could I say against it? I couldn’t admit it to myself, let alone to others. I settled for feeling like an impostor in the classroom.
03
I did everything to boost my university applications. Extra curriculars, volunteering, a part-time job that blended into a single non-stop rush. I did summer courses and I went to Oxbridge conferences. Some of those engineering things I really did love, but at 17, I was convinced that ‘I was passionate about the engineering sector’. Looking back, what did I personally gain then? It was a tick in the checkbox, ‘this opportunity demonstrates my interest to be an engineer’. Who am I to complain?
04
Achievements and accomplishments provided adrenaline and I thrived off it, even off the attention in a completely hypocritical way. It meant I was doing something right. But no one had higher expectations than me. Even if others didn’t, or the expectations went down, I piled it on myself because it is what I thought was expected – looking back I was and still am my own worst critic and taskmaster.
Arrogantly, at times achievement felt numb in a way that it was all taken for granted, because expectations were so sky-high, it had to be something extraordinary to elicit a feeling. When it did all come crashing down in a matter of months after my AS levels, expectation gave way to disappointment, and I was buried along with my self-confidence.
05
I chose my university course on some shaky foundations. Secretly, I was more interested in the more creative aspects of architecture and product design. But at 18, I dare not explore that. After all, my single-track mind demanded it needed to be an engineering degree to make valid all my efforts. So, I discounted all the BA and BSc product design courses and I combed through the limited choices of those with a BEng or MEng classification. After all, an MEng degree creates more job opportunities AND a higher pay band, right?
I threw my application into the ring and landed on a seemingly perfect course that echoed the subject I loved at school. In the end, it seemed a miracle that I had defied everything to do what I loved. The fact that getting my A-Levels and getting into university didn’t feel that amazing or celebratory was filed away.
06
As I started my degree, product design took over my life and I loved it. I enjoyed learning new skills and all the specialist programs unique to product design and the department. I loved how one day I could be drawing new ideas while the next I would be in a lecture theatre learning about materials or mathematics. I worked all the hours to produce work to the best of my ability and to keep up with the academic pressures to excel. I knew that I was in my element, even though that conviction wavered many times.
There is no right or wrong to spend your time off. But as every summer rolled by, I knew the right thing to progress a career was to find work experience or spend time working on my portfolio and skills. I did no such thing and I have no regrets, but seeds of doubt manifested in my head. At 17 I would’ve jumped at any chance to do anything that would progress my career as I had been conditioned to do so. Why was I so reluctant now?
07
The COVID-19 pandemic allowed me to pull that loose thread in my mind and unravel it. With the sudden removal of every other part of university life, I realised I was no longer happy with what I was doing. In reality, my mental health had been suffering as I moved through never-ending project after project. As I struggled to maintain a healthy work-life balance.
There are many reasons why I was no longer happy doing my degree. Some of it down to me and what I have learnt about myself; some of it to external factors that I could not control which rendered me frustrated. It all seemed so much more apparent in the silence that COVID had created.
As I completed my major project nearly a year later, the lack of passion and interest were red flags. I was tired and burnt out, and I thought – I am not sure I have the right temperament to hack it in this profession, no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise.
I asked myself for the first time in a long time – what do I really want?
Some of these truths I’ve known for a long time, even if it wasn’t so apparent at the moment. Although I had made each of these choices, the person at 15 who made them under the pressures on her then, had different priorities and a different outlook on life. It is no wonder how I look back now and view these choices as made by a passenger rather than the captain of her own fate.
I expect a lot of these decisions were made in the face of not wanting to let anyone down. There are still old articles about this scholarship online. Apart from a quote I have no recollection ever giving (which is a problem in itself that we won’t get into), there are also quotes by the then headmistress. Some of the things she said included how I was being ‘a beacon for young female engineers and what they can achieve with drive, passion and talent’ and ‘how I [she] will do great things’. I am not sure whether I want to laugh or cry. I don’t recognise that girl anymore, especially as the one who has a ‘keen interest in civil engineering and the built environment’.
The sad thing is, everybody moved on – but I am still standing here in this memory that I bet nobody remembers.
I ask myself, what would I have done instead? There are countless scenarios, and hindsight is a powerful thing. I would’ve researched more of what was out there before settling on other people’s expectations or my own expectations. I should have researched more about different degrees in the creative and design sector such as graphics or industrial design at other universities that might have been better suited. I shouldn’t have been so afraid to chase after what I wanted or asked for help.
But in reality, it is surreal to think that teenagers are expected to have it worked out. At 15, it is difficult to ascertain what is important and makes you happy in life, especially when education is all you have known.
The pandemic plays a major factor. Something so unpredictable, the mental fatigue and stress that many felt may have played into my changed perspective and whole sense of self. However, I wonder, if COVID-19 hadn’t happened, would I have come to the same conclusions, only much later?
My gut says yes.
As we headed into August and I graduated virtually, this month bought new life and clarity. I hauled out those A2 bags again and sorted through them with a new purpose.
Stage 5 | The Upwards Turn
The appeal of a zombie-like lifestyle started to wear off. My mind was not made to be idle and my hands itched to do something.
First, I re-branded my design account and launched a new website and blog. It gave me sorely needed focus and it was exhilarating to be doing something I really wanted to do. You can read more about it here.
I started talking to the closest people around me again and I realised how important they were to me. I applied for an internship unrelated to design and although I got rejected after interview, learnt so much from the process of writing the application.
I realised the many transferrable skills I had applicable to professions outside of STEM, despite me cursing that I had done the ‘wrong’ degree. I spoke to a careers advisor to figure out what I was interested in and what I really enjoyed.
It opened my mind to other possibilities, such as discontinued dreams of making it to F1 or working with writing, new possibilities that I only learned as a Publicity Officer for my university sports club in marketing or exploring the wider creative design industry in graphics or UI/UX design that seem more compelling.
Most importantly, these dreams and possibilities are all rooted in bygone things that I have loved since I was little. It gives me the courage to pursue things in other sectors, such as the arts, that seemed impossible. A broken China bowl may not function as a bowl anymore, but hey, it’ll make a great piece for something else.
I will always love product design. I know in my heart that it was the right choice to pursue it at 18 because it was my favourite thing at school. I was confident about it and the way it can help so many people will never cease to amaze me.
But it is a farewell, for now, I want to try something different. While that is sad, I will always have the utmost respect for the engineering sector. I will always be a STEM girl at heart and although I start to accept with grace that I won’t be that leader in engineering or industry, there are so many other amazing role models (such as my coursemates) who I salute.
I would love to think in the future that I will somehow always play a role in uplifting the women who want to succeed in male-dominated industries and I want to continue that however I can – this was a reason why I refused to waver in my desire to succeed. But I still have that ‘drive, passion and talent’ that earmarked me for success seven years ago. I’ve just come to accept that maybe I am destined for something else and to be a role model elsewhere in life.
If I could go back in time, and tell me seven years ago what will happen, firstly she wouldn’t believe me. I doubt anyone had ‘global pandemic’ on their life bingo card – but would I have done anything differently?
Three months ago, I would’ve said yes, but now, I am not sure I would. I don’t regret doing an engineering degree nor in the end, would I have wished to have done any other degree. I did love it, truly, at times. It has opened so many doors and I know that there will be one open ajar if I ever decide to return.
Although I’m not continuing down the path I had set up originally, the path I did go down, every exhilarating and terrifying part of it has made me who I am today. It has built my character in a way that it wouldn’t have done had I not had this chance to fall.
Coming to accept I was wrong is one thing, but realising that a wrong path can still end up being the right path if you look for that light at the end of the tunnel is another. In the end, there are alternate conclusions I can draw:
1: I fell into engineering by accident, but it did speak to my soul as a place where I could apply my skills to problem-solving and helping people. I appreciate the world so much more because of it.
2: The scholarship and all of my achievements are something I am still incredibly proud of and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I am still so grateful for all the opportunities to showcase my confidence, and I am honoured to have been recognised as someone with that potential.
3: Through everything I did do, I gained confidence, new skills, began and ended journeys and experienced things as they should’ve done. I met some amazing people on residential courses, some of who are still in my life today. I got to hang out at some very cool universities and most importantly, at least I worked out what I didn’t want to do.
4: Failure happens, failure is important. At times, I needed to be knocked down a peg or two to climb up again and to learn to be humble and kind to myself. After all, I was a teenager!
5: I loved how the course I ended up doing was after a serendipitous visit to a late open day and it was perfect on paper. I love how my friends supported me, and I am proud of all of them for making it through to get to where they are today.
6: University had its ups and downs, but I met friends for life and lived those stories I still think about today. I will oddly miss those late nights in the studio working to deadlines, the collective sounds of an error in Solidworks and the 9ams that had no business being 9ams. I will take all the skills I have learnt, all of the growth and move forward in good stead for anything I want to do.
7: Above all else, the things that did make me happy? They really did. I worked on myself and made sure my mental health came first. Towards the end, I had an alright work-life balance. Some things that happened make me want to cry in embarrassment or laugh in disbelief. I may have regrets, but to be at the stage I am today, I also don’t have any.
I have heard this sentence many times over the last few months and while cliché, is fitting: ‘It will all work out in the end’.
In summary, it feels like a fall from grace that started years ago, clinging on readily because I desperately wanted to be the person who so many people expected me to be, who I expected to be. As someone who can be arrogant, stubborn and competitive, I could not be shaken and refused to be shaken. Not when I had been cast into a narrative barbed with pride, refusing to accept that I was wrong or it could be changed.
But coming to somehow understand the bigger picture of how I went up in flames, has led to being reborn (dramatic and cheesy, but it is true). Most importantly, it’s learning to be proud of myself above all else no matter what I have done or achieved. Here I try to break the vicious cycle of defining self-worth and identity with a marble pedestal.
I thank the past and appreciate the faith, praise and positivity that I received. I look back fondly at the girl and all she achieved and look forward to this woman and all she will be.
After all, what is growth for?
Stage 6 | What Next?
So, what did I learn? Here are my top tips and takeaways for anyone who is in the same boat at any stage in education or life.
- (Particularly for those at school) Not everyone leaves university wanting to do what they studied. It is pretty normal and I wished it had sunk in a lot earlier. Some people realise early on, some not until a lot later. THAT IS OKAY and is not the end of the world.
- There is no right or wrong. It’s how you interpret it and how you roll the dice to change the situation. You control the narrative, not what the media or anyone else pens you into.
- Transferrable skills! Not just a buzz word, you probably will have a lot more than you think and you’ll be able to spin them in a way that makes them suitable for any sector.
- Spend time researching everything that is out there – it might not be obvious.
- You don’t have to have it all together all the time and it’s okay to not have a plan all the time (as painful as that may be). Furthermore, be kind to yourself (as hard as that may be).
- Expectations and achievements are just what they say on the tin. They aren’t obligations and they don’t define you.
- Mental health is the priority – being in any position to make big decisions, such as job hunting, should only be done if you are mentally in that position to do so.
- Take your time – I am guilty of rushing into things and having little patience. It is not a race and more often the not if you take your time, you will probably find the right thing that makes you, you.
- Talk to people – I shut myself away from people. But I couldn’t have pulled myself through the last couple of months if it weren’t for my closest friends offering their guidance and experience. It can be surprising what you learn and it may turn out people are more in your position that you expect.
- Everyone is in the same boat – a lot of people have a bit of impostor syndrome. It can be difficult to convince yourself otherwise especially if you have pre-conceived expectations, but what you think that matters the most. Admitting you don’t have a plan can be scary. Truth is, most people don’t and people can be supportive. Surprisingly.
- Talk to your university careers service – advice from some friends that I really rate and have found so useful. Talking to a careers advisor has been so helpful to work out what to do (not just reviewing CVs or applications).
- Do what you love or do what you can so you can love your life – it is hard at 15 (or any age) to choose what you want to do, and it is cliché when people tell you to do what you enjoy or love. But if you fall out of love with something, trust in the process of life that there is more out there. It doesn’t matter how long you take to get there, but trust your best instincts. Also, one person’s desire in life may be very different to yours. But it doesn’t make any of it less valid.
- Figure out your strengths and weaknesses – make a list of things that you love about your degree, lifestyle, your strengths and the things you hate or dread. That will give an indication of maybe what you should look for in a career or even in life.
- COVID-19 has made everything seem so much worse – the last 18 months are what we can call ‘character building’. If you can make it through a global pandemic, you can make it anywhere.
Some of this was quite hard to write about. But the chance to lay these all to paper is a welcome relief and if no-one understands anything that I am trying to say, at least I do and unapologetically so! In the end, I did write this for myself, so if you have read this far then that is just a bonus. I hope you found something from it (and if you didn’t, fair enough!).
I am privileged to have had the experiences I had, good or bad, and to be able to write about them. A lot of it may seem trivial compared to the wider world of experiences and issues that society goes through each day (perspective much?). I am privileged to have support and time to move through this especially as it is easier said than done.
Everyone is in different situations with different factors and my experience may not ring true with you. As a wise friend said, there is no right or wrong to how you are meant to feel or how you make your decisions or choices. After all, life is unpredictable, scary and works in mysterious ways.
What makes you happy in life at one stage might be vastly different at another – in fact, I could look back at what I have written here in a few months or even in a year’s time and my perspective of what happened may have changed (watch me actually work in engineering in a year’s time!). When I am forty and look back at this and have lived more life, I could be thinking ‘ah what a naive twenty-something year old’; – the human mind and emotions can be fickle after all. A lot of it comes with life experience that I am yet to live, choices I am yet to choose, and mistakes I am yet to make.
As I cross-examine myself, I know that I have a lot of figuring out to do in the pursuit of who I am, who I want to be and what’s important to me in life. At time of writing, I most certainly, even after three months do not have anything worked out nor has following my own advice always been successful! But for once in my life, I want to take my time and feel what is happening around me.
It would be easier if life was a straight line rather than a tangled web. That’s why plans go awry. I wish that I was still that kid who only saw the humour in something a puffer fish said, and my largest worries being whether Nemo, Dory and Marlin will be okay.
Now what?
Guess I’m about to find out.
