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Just a Quarter of My Awesome Life

posted 12th January 2011    Written by: Nikki    CATEGORY: All Posts, Events, Inspiration, Life Lesson, Nikki, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 3, What I've Learned

I have a really good friend who went through a typical Quarter Life Crisis and yet still maintains the QLC doesn’t exist.  He was in grad school for and making money in his chosen profession when he realized it just wasn’t for him, quit school, quit his job, moved across the country and started over.  He’s now a professional musician and lives one of the most enviable, inspiring lives of anyone I know.

I remember when he was going through his QLC, partially because I was on the cusp of my own.  We used to call each other, frustrated and unsure, comparing the messes of our love lives, the unfulfillment of our career lives, and the fears that were plauging us.  We bonded over a shared ickiness.  Classic QLC, right?

The difference between him and most people I know who’ve gone through a QLC (including myself) is that he refuses to call it a crisis.  Even when he felt icky and frustrated and was not making enough money to live on, he saw his life as an adventure and this unknown stage of it as just one somewhat frightening, giant decision between many thrilling options.

To quote him (thanks, Facebook!):

We have this amazing opportunity (unlike previous generations) to do whatever we want with our lives but we tend to spend so much time and energy talking about how hard it is and getting angsty because we “don’t know what to do with our lives.”  …These are opportunities! Amazing, wonderful opportunities!  …I wish more people our age perceived it in such a manner.

Wise words, no?  It makes me want to take action, any action, try and fail and try again.  It’s all ok.  It’s all part of really living life.  So inspiring!

I get it, though, we all know logically that this is a time of exciting possibilities, but it’s hard to keep that in mind in the middle of it, while it feels like the life you know is crumbling around you and everyone you look up to is looking down on you disapprovingly.

We have so many more options and comforts and safety nets than the generations before us, and the freedom they give us is both exhilarating and overwhelming.  But add to that the fact that we’re bucking the norm in a society that has always expected people our age to put our nose to the grindstone, get a job, start a family, stop “goofing off” and grow up already, makes it a lot harder to see that freedom as a good thing.  We’re swimming against the current, and that can be exhausting.

I think that’s really where the “crisis” comes in.  It’s a crisis of understanding and communication.  It’s the difference between generations, and it’s always existed, ever since the first teenager argued with the first parent.  With each generation we’re evolving as a race, and we have the luxury to find our happiness, which our grandparents, and parents, didn’t have to the same extent.

It can be difficult feeling like you’re not living up to expectations, you’re letting the people you respect down, you’re “behind” on the timeline of normal life.  It can be frightening feeling like you have no role models and you’re forging your own path through the uncharted wilderness of creating the life you want, a life you’re scared to think is even possible.  I used to feel that way ALL. THE. TIME.  …until Stratejoy.

You ladies are my role models.  Molly especially.  All my fellow writers and all the commenters and all the blogs I’ve found of women making it happen on their own terms show me that I may be forging my own path, but I’m doing it right alongside other amazing people, and it’s not so scary.

It’s time for a paradigm shift.  Forget what other people think, forget societal “norms” (we’re changing them this very minute anyway!), forget what you thought you wanted or where you thought you’d be; take stock of the incredible freedom you have right now, and all the opportunities you can take advantage of in your life.  This is no crisis!!  This is the BEST THING EVER!!

So I’m with Lindsey, I think we need to come up with a new name for the QLC.  Quarter Life Celebration, Quarter Life Exploration, Quarter Life Speedbump, Quarter Life Fuck Yeah!

What do y’all think?

Meanwhile, I’m going to follow the example of my inspiring friend and take action.  I’m just gonna go for it and drink up what life has to offer, say yes to all opportunities, and find exuberant joy in the unknown.  Life isn’t a race to the finish line of “adult benchmark goals,” life is meant to be explored and enjoyed.  This time of my life is amazing, not a crisis.  And if I make a few mistakes, well, that still won’t make it a crisis.

We’re strong, we’re smart, we’re free, we’re young — let’s do this shit.

[photo credit]

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Managing My Melancholy

posted 5th January 2011    Written by: Nikki    CATEGORY: Inspiration, Life Lesson, Nikki, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 3, Tips & Tools, What I've Learned

Bad days.  Icky, craptastic, sucky, vomit, I-just-wanna-lay-in-bed-and-cry, shit days.  We all have them.

Sometimes I know what’s bothering me, and sometimes I just wake up feeling indeterminably down.  It’s like a stormy raincloud is following me around and with each soggy step, thunder rumbles in my head; there’s just no cheering me up.

I don’t have any ways of yanking myself out of a funk like that.  Usually when they happen, I just trudge through them, fighting back tears at my desk or letting myself scream it out, alone in my car, waiting til I can pull the covers over my head and hopefully feel better tomorrow.

It’s a deep hole, and when I’m in it, it’s hard to see the sunlight and there’s no use trying to convince myself I can scale the steep walls to get out.

BUT these funks are never permanent, and although I haven’t been able to find sure-fire methods of ending them, I have learned how to deal when I’m in them, and how to keep them from growing longer or more frequent.

I channel John Lennon and LET IT BE. Denying how I feel, playing Pollyanna (“I’m great!” just comes out sounding sarcastic), or getting upset and frustrated with myself for feeling bad just makes me feel worse.  When I’m having a bad day, I’m not allowed to say, “what’s wrong with me” or “get over it” – I am allowed to say, “I feel rotten” and “I am in a terrible bitchy-ass mood” and “I just want to punch everyone.”  Of course, I mostly say these things to myself; I try not to splash people with my rainy day as much as I can help it.

When I can admit to myself I feel horrible and just allow myself to feel it, I’m not fighting against myself.  There’s nothing less productive than fighting yourself; struggling to deny or change how you feel is like punching yourself in the face, and no one wants to look like Ed Norton in Fight Club.  And, since I’m aware of how I feel & not fighting it, every once in a while I actually end up laughing at myself because I’m being so ridiculously grumpy.

I stop and ask myself WHY. What brought on this mood?  Even on days where I feel like I just woke up possessed by Oscar the Grouch, there’s always something underneath it, and usually it’s something seemingly small that can be easily dealt with once I recognize it.  The worst feeling is “I don’t know why I’m so upset!!”  It carries with it feelings of powerlessness, desperation and futility that are not only completely unhealthy, but untrue.  We DO have the power to change how we feel, always, even if it’s just tiny bit by tiny bit.

It’s easy to say, well I feel this way because my life is a mess (sniffle sniffle sob self-pity), but really dig in there – why are these feelings coming up so strongly now, today?

Sure, there are a lot of things in my life that could use some improvement, but usually when I really take an honest look at how I’m feeling on a bad day, I find it’s stemmed from a remark someone made or some small experience I had recently that struck me the wrong way & has lodged in my mind like a poison arrow.

If I can pinpoint the wound, I can dig out the arrow & start to heal.  Usually, when I discover the why, I find it doesn’t merit all the dramatic attention I’m giving it, and it almost immediately improves my mood.

I TALK and/or write about it. I have an overactive brain; I over-think everything and have a hyper-active imagination.  So letting bad feelings build up inside me and run away with my thoughts is the easiest and worst thing I can do to myself.  I call it “tornado brain” when my thoughts get so out of control that I’m just going around & around in a cyclone of bad feelings and negative thoughts, and it’s swirling so fast I can’t grasp the why & I can’t let it be.  When this happens, the only way to combat the storm is to let it out.

Sometimes it’s sufficient to write in my journal; sometimes I need to talk it out with my mom or my therapist.  Whatever it takes, I have to get it OUT of my brain, because often, when my thoughts hit the harsh light on the page or are breathed and formed into words, they sound plain idiotic.

I’ve laughed through tears innumerable times at how problems that seemed unresolvable in my head, once spoken, become so simple and even absurd.  We are amazing creatures; deep down, we always know why we are feeling what we’re feeling, and what we need to change it.  When I allow myself to delve deep down and purge, I usually hit that core knowledge and always feel a lot better.

Bad days are part of being human; I don’t expect to ever not have them at all, but as long as I know how to deal with them, I know I can always get through them.  In fact, now that I think about it, I’d probably be a much less self-aware person without them, so there’s even something in our bad days to be grateful for.

[photo source]

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Bad Days Are Okay

posted 17th December 2010    Written by: Alisha    CATEGORY: Alisha, All Posts, Life Lesson, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 3, Spirituality, What I've Learned

I have had a string of bad days.  Not “my dog died” kind of bad, but more like the kind of days when you just want to hide from the world.  Usually these kinds of days are riddled with self-doubt.  They are filled with surges of confidence that quickly disapate.  And I spend copious amounts of energy doing the things that I think will lift my spirits only to feel even worse than I did before.

I took my medicine.

I journaled–tried to acknowledge my fears with words.

I texted, tweeted and wrote to friends.

I took long, scalding showers.

I turned on Britney Spears and did funny dances with the kids.

It didn’t work.  Despite doing all of those things, each day was filled with moments where I sat on the edge of the sofa with eyes full of tears that would not fall.  So one night I said to myself, you know, maybe I don’t need to try to fight these feelings so hard.  Maybe I need to go ahead and acknowledge these feelings–embrace them even–and just be.

Normally when I reach this point, I dig through my nightstand drawer and consult a spiritual text (of which there are many).  But instead I looked up my astrological profile.  I know, funny isn’t it?  I was grasping for something, anything, that might help me understand why I was feeling this way, why I so often feel this way, and this is what it told me:

. . . . Cancerians are family centered, tradition bound, tied to the past, fearful of the future and of the unknown. Security is one of their major goals. . . .  Cancerians look toward introversion and melancholy. They are as restless and moody as the shifting tides. They…like to retreat into dreams and fantasies and to shelter themselves in the relative safety of the past.

. . . . They tend to be exclusive in their social contacts; at the same time, they are particularly touchy about being excluded by others. And they never forget a slight. . . .

. . . . If they are disappointed, they become withdrawn and hostile. . . .

. . . . At their best, Cancerians of both sexes are among the most loving of people, profoundly intuitive, and quick to grasp and respond to the emotional needs of others. They inspire and nurture growth. It is Cancerians’ task to find safe haven in which their sign’s exquisite sensitivity can bloom and flourish. Otherwise, the crab my find itself dominated by the prickly, grasping side of its nature.

Sigh of relief.

I am not sure why, but I found this comforting.  I’m not a huge believer in astrology; I don’t read my daily horoscope or consult the position of the moon and stars to chart my life plans.  But in that moment, it was as though it answered all of these big, scary questions that have been hovering over me these past few days.  Why am I like this?  Why do I feel like this?  Is this okay? In that moment I accepted that it was okay being me.  It was okay that I am emotionally-unstable.  (Okay, I had to chuckle at that last line, but it’s so true.)  It was a reminder that I can love all of me, even if there are parts of me that literally drive me crazy.  It is just who I am.  And I can’t force myself to become someone I am not.

So these bad days, though they do suck, are okay.  I have them.  I had them in the past and there will be many more in the future.  But I don’t have to fight with them all the time.  Sometimes I can just let them be bad.

(photo credit)

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It’s All About The Little Things

posted 12th November 2010    Written by: Alisha    CATEGORY: Alisha, All Posts, Family, Life Lesson, Money, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 3, What I've Learned

I gotta tell ya, these happy pills have been pretty amazing.  My body no longer aches.  I laugh.  I talk.  I smile.  Hell, even on those rainy Chicago days that I used to groan about so much, I walk on clouds.  It is amazing!  Now that the fog of depression has lifted, I am able to see just how wonderful my life is.  It isn’t perfect, but wow.  I can not believe how much of the good I could not see.

Even if you are not depressed, I think you can agree that it’s really easy to throw yourself pity parties.  Like, life sucks because you have to buy beer in the cans instead of beer in the bottles.  Or you think you might as well just stop leaving the house because all of the shirts you own are unravelling.  Or maybe you would rather get fat and sick eating off the McDonald’s dollar menu because shopping at Whole Foods is not an option right now.  Perhaps all of your best friends are married and you still spend Saturday nights cuddling your cats.  But that’s all petty shit, ya know?  You probably have about a zillion amazing little things to be grateful for in this life.

And life is as much about the little things as it is about the big things.

Take this cup of coffee.  To the plain old person, it’s just a plain old cup o’ joe (Kirkland’s Columbian Roast) in a plain ol’ mug.  But for me it’s something bigger.

We moved here almost two years ago.  We thought it would be a good opportunity: a chance to travel on a different career path and be near family.  It was a huge sacrifice.  We gave up a lot of money, a lot of stuff, a lot of security to make this leap.  We had no idea that my side of the family would move–taking their free daycare offer with them.  We had no idea that the job we thought would be so great would be so bad; that my father-in-law would be attacked (and finally killed) by that damn cancer; that the winters would be so long, so gray and so lonely.  We didn’t know that money would be so tight that I would have to spend last spring, summer and fall selling my clothes, my purses, my shoes, my children’s toys to make ends meet.  And that when they still didn’t meet, we would go to the food pantry.

Despite how depressing many of those months were, I am happy for the life lessons I learned along the way.  I learned how to use a sewing machine.  (I made some pretty awesome pillows and pants.)  I learned how to bake bread and cook dry beans.  (My chili kicks ass!)  I learned that appearances are decieving.  (The grass is always greener on the other side, isn’t it?) I learned that it actually takes very little to survive.  (VERY little.)  I learned how to dissociate my self-worth from my possessions.  (This was a hard one.  But I finally got it.  I am NOT my things.)  And this led to me being even more appreciative and grateful for all the little stuff.

Like this cup of coffee.

I am so grateful and so happy that I can sit here at my desk and drink this cup of coffee.

(photo credit)

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Guts.

posted 3rd November 2010    Written by: Nikki    CATEGORY: Events, Nikki, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 3, What I've Learned

I have a confession to make: I’m in therapy.

No, I have never been diagnosed with any sort of mental instability or chemical imbalance; I’m not depressed or manic-depressive, and I didn’t have an overly traumatic childhood.  In fact, I’m generally a pretty happy person.  So why do I go to therapy, you ask?

Now before you go judging me thinking I’m “sooooo LA” and picturing me in big designer sunglasses, texting on my bedazzeled Ed Hardy iphone in sweatpants two sizes too small with JUICY written on the ass while I drone on about me, me, me to my tuned-out therapist, put your stereotypes on hold for a second.

I started going to therapy at the advice of a close friend who had never thought she’d be in therapy.  We both had the attitude of, oh, sure therapy’s great for someone with problems but it’s not for me.  But when she started getting ulcers from anxiety and I hit my QLC, neither of us could navigate through all these feelings alone.  Friends were great, but, let’s face it, no one wants to sit for hours listening to someone else’s problems, and, even more than that, I wasn’t about to pull out my guts and show everyone all my neuroses and fears.  Hell no.

So I started going to therapy.  And I judged myself.  I thought, geez, Nikki, you are such a freaking whiner.  Really, you think she wants to sit here and listen to you talk about how acting sucks and your heart’s broken and your parents are getting a divorce?  Oh waah waah, baby, that happens to millions of people, every day.  Get a real problem.

Then one day I told her that I felt stupid being upset about these things, and that I thought I should just be able to deal with it all on my own, and what the hell is wrong with me that I can’t deal with it all on my own, and I’m sorry that I’m wasting her time with my petty issues.  She looked me straight in the eyes, told me to look at her, to trust her, that these are NOT petty things and I am NOT stupid and that I have every right to be here and every right to feel what I feel.  These are difficult things to deal with, and we’re going to deal with them together.  Period.

From that moment on, I trusted her and started to trust myself.  I am always completely honest in therapy (otherwise, what’s the point?) even when I feel like I’m being silly or melodramatic; there’s always something bigger, deeper, less obvious under those “silly” feelings.  Being in a safe environment like that gives me permission to explore my deepest fears and confront my demons, and I almost always find that whenever I am in a tough spot and have a seemingly impossible question, somewhere inside I know the answer.  I can’t even tell you how many “AHA!” moments I’ve had, or how many times I’ve broken down in pain.

I think it’s ironic that in our society we tend to see people who need therapy or counseling or any sort of help as weak, because when done honestly, it’s one of the hardest things a person can do.  To really face yourself, without pretense or bullshit, to say all the hateful things we tell ourselves in the privacy of our own minds, out loud, to explore the things that keep us awake at night – these take guts.  They are effing scary as shit. It takes a strong person to get through it.

Therapy has made me know myself better than I ever could have without it.   It has helped me understand how my mind works; instead of repeating bad habits, wondering why does this always happen to me, I catch myself and, even if I can’t yet change the pattern, I’m no longer the victim.  It has given me the power to choose my thoughts, the clarity to make big decisions, and the self-love to move forward in a positive direction.

Therapy, for me, is not about changing myself or getting past some roadblock, and it’s certainly not just hollywood-stereotype narcissism.   It is about understanding who I am and what I need at my honest core, growing, accepting, and choosing to be conscious of my thoughts and actions.

[photo: the awesome journal my therapist got me when I left for Australia :) ]

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