As confident as I had been in my decision at the time, walking away from my glamorous magazine job—and along with it, my lifelong “dream” career—left an emotional scar that refused to heal, no matter how many times I told myself it was for the best. A year later, I was still feeling an incredible amount of doubt. Perhaps, even, a tinge of regret. And because I was scared of what people would think, I refrained from talking (or writing) about it.
Read MoreI was describing my new apartment to one of my coworkers when he said, quite poetically, "You have an apartment, but not a home." He was right—I was in the middle stages, in that I had a key, I had a lease, and there were half-opened suitcases scattered about my room, but I didn't have any furniture, I didn't have a bed, or even hangars.
I very much was in the process of creating a home.
Read MoreGrowth is slower and more subtle than I used to think it was. It doesn’t always look like milestones or hurdles jumped, and it’s hard to document. My journal pages from the last two years don’t look all that different from each other; there aren’t huge leaps made from one day to the next. But over the months, my voice reads a little happier. A little more hopeful for the future.
Read MoreSince graduating in May, I’ve felt tossed around more than a few times. I know what it is to let circumstances dictate the kind of friend I’ll be and the kind of day I’ll have. Things that feel urgent constantly rise up and demand my attention, from the time I wake up until the time I go to bed. For the past few months, nearly every day has looked different, and I hid behind my jobs to excuse myself from the hard work of discipline.
Read MoreI turned 24 on Tuesday.
My first instinct was to look at the people around me. The ones posting on social media.
They’d written books, were writing articles for magazines I still only dream will send me an acceptance letter one day. They’d started podcasts. Spent two years living in Asia. Found the loves of their lives. Wore diamond rings on the fourth finger of their left hands. Spoke at the United Nations. Worked in refugee camps around the world.
Read MoreEven so, I’ve been surprised at the feeling of worthlessness that has come alongside this period of quiet. The questions in my mind of, what am I contributing to anybody? Am I allowed to still be “resting” or is this really just laziness now? Is everyone around me wondering what I’m doing with my time? Am I paranoid to be thinking like this? If I’m secure in my identity and my decisions about how to spend my time, where has this fear of worthlessness come from?
Read MoreBy not making any decisions, I had made my decision. Life was happening all around me, it was happening to me, but I had no role in it. Weeks passed, and I decided I didn’t want to be a bystander in my own story. I wanted to do. I wanted to choose.
Read MoreIt seemed like everywhere I turned these past few months I heard that I was entering the strangest year of my life.
I heard the word miserable more than a few times, confusing and wonderful used in the same sentences. Now, on the other side of this first untethered month, I get it. There’s no end date on my job description, no promise I’ll return to what’s been normal for the past four years.
Read MoreI have always been the quiet one. I’ve never spoken up in classes, never could talk to the person standing next to me in the elevator, never been described as bubbly or charismatic. Every start of a new school year, ever strike of midnight on New Year's Eve, I had one resolution.
Just talk more, I'd tell myself. Be outgoing.
Read MoreBut how do I bring this simple home with me, pack it away in my carry-on and roll right through customs with? How do I bring simple home to jobs and bills and relationships and a mind that is ready to pick up its worry torch and begin its hurried dash once more?
Read MoreI have craved attention from dating apps and from boys I meet in bars. I have craved attention from social media followers on a picture I like of myself. If it didn’t get enough attention I didn’t like the photo anymore. I have craved the attention of employers reading my resume and of readers of my blog.
Read MoreI now sit at my computer, post-work, with the clock counting down to my next obligation. Once again, I ask myself to curate some kind of wisdom in my schedule. Instead of sitting, I feel as though I am constantly going. I must be on at all times and my head spins until it finally hits the pillow, if I am lucky. I have gone from sitting to standing to running and, still, I have trouble figuring out what exactly I am learning from it all.
Read MoreGrowing up, I was terrified of codependency. I never wanted to rely on anyone for anything. I didn’t want to look to someone else to give me self-worth, and I never wanted to let another being have the power to dictate my happiness. I wanted to be able to take care of myself. Perhaps this is something I was born with, or maybe I picked it up somewhere along the way.
Read MoreTo the graduates: On the night before my college graduation, I had a terrible stomachache.
My best friends and I went for a ceremonial last scoop at our favorite ice cream place, a place where I should have had a loyalty card or something by that point, and I could barely take a bite. My insides were roiling (and I promise, it wasn't a hangover; by then I knew the difference). I just felt sick and shaky and any other night, it would have put me right to bed.
Read MoreWhen I was growing up, my mom often quoted her favorite movie. “When the Lord closes a door,” she said, channeling Maria Von Trapp, “somewhere he opens a window.” Though I’m not one to live my life based on corny lines from The Sound of Music, I do think that there’s something wise about this particular platitude.
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