If you haven’t met me before, or if this is your first time on the blog, this post might feel like it flew in from left field or fell out of some UFO. Nonetheless, I’m also hoping that, in a strange way, by the end, my message makes sense. I like to live on my toes, and I believe if you aren’t living a little bit in the loony, you’re living too much in the serious. We’re all a tad quirky under the surface. I’m an out-of-the-box girl, and I wouldn’t want it any other way; plus, staying in your lane is overrated.
Anyways, it’s nice to meet you, my name is Emma and I’m on my 23rd trip around the sun. Well, “trip” doesn’t quite do justice to the hellfire spiraling through the galaxy which is my actual experience as a 20-something thus far, but for lack of better words, trip will do. In some ways, being in your 20s is a trip. As in, like, my brain being hooked to some low-dosage constant stream of acid would better explain the absurdity of some thoughts and actions my brain conceives as good ideas. We’re not going to go that far, though; it’s only fair that I ease you into the depths of my mind, like sensibly not sending you out in a double-overhead swell on your first day surfing. But without further ado, let’s paddle out.
My 23rd Trip Around the Sun
They say we’re not alone, and that being in your 20s is hard for everyone, but is this actually true? We’ve replaced individuality with conformity and vulnerability with photodumps. Behind every highlight reel we see on the internet is an imperfect person; that raw, wholly human imperfection is the thing that could unite us, but it’s been gentrified by a masquerade ball, and for some, the clock never strikes midnight. I feel like if the Matrix is real in this world, it exists in the ballroom.
If the struggles I’m having as a 20-something are universal, how would I know? The opposite is all I see, and it’s all that’s able to photosynthesize in the light of the digital world. Any filth I’ve presented to the ecosystem of social media has been met with a quick death; the same light that feeds the squares kills the circles. This isn’t a black-and-white case, though, because relatability is sometimes what catalyzes some stars’ rise to fame. What differentiates one’s rawness from the next? I don’t know, but for every five-year plan I hear boasted or winter arc encouraged, I see zero “I have no clue what I’m doing, and I’m proud!” posts. Because why share that when it’s met with rejection, and rejection is an experience that our brain associates with pain since rejection in our primal years led to death.
When it comes to the certainty level I have with what I’m doing in MY life, I have no clue, and any clue I do have is so flaccid it could be washed away by tomorrow. Clueless doesn’t mean there’s a lack of trying. Sometimes, while trying, things don’t stick, and during those times, the only way out is to try something new. Trying can almost be an era, and I could classify my past year as such. Those days of relentless endeavors have already gotten me into some trouble with the world of “having a clue” and “knowing what you’re doing”. I’m sure I’ve lived 9 lives already, so I’m crossing my fingers that I’ve got a lot more because I’m just scratching the surface out here.
Is there a point in life when we finally get a prescription for a lens to clarify the sight that has led us astray day after day? When we can suddenly see the road we’ve been driving on since the beginning, and the path in front of us is no longer a black hole of trial and error? Or do we have to keep hitting cars and driving into ditches just to get a feel for the societal lines our cars belong in? Maybe the good stuff has nothing to do with knowing what you’re doing, seeing what’s in front of you, or even learning how to drive with a blindfold on. Maybe the sweet nectar of life is learning to lead with what speaks to you from the inside, and perhaps a point comes when the road suddenly moves with you. Maybe bad sight is actually the best heritable trait that everyone overlooks, because those who have it learn to listen to their gut, and they’re the ones who live from the inside out. Maybe our first mistake was leading with our eyes in the first place. I have no clue, though; in this metaphor, I have about 10 hit-and-runs, a few cliff launches, and enough parking tickets to land me some solid time at the pound.
Even though I have no clue what I’m doing, I’m learning new things every day. From the fact that I have been living in a chemically toxic environment at no one’s fault but the government’s since I was a baby, to the fact that multitasking doesn’t actually exist, but living in the moment is the most important task you can pursue for a meaningful life but living in the moment doesn’t pay the bills so I may as well let my anxiety spiral and carry out the days and weeks and months to come just so I have all of my bases covered and before I know it the moment isn’t even a place I have residency in anymore, forever banished to my runaway thoughts. Is it overthinking or is it the reality of living in a digital world as a 20-something? I wouldn’t know because no one talks about it. Is that going to change? Or are we doomed to an isolated existence floating over the possibility of sacred union. Union of humans and nature, to be clear, don’t get it twisted.
For me, because I have no clue what I’m doing, every day is a completely different journey, until it isn’t. Whether it’s extenuating circumstances (like a broken wrist) or a situational rut, at 23, I’ve already wound up stuck for days, weeks, or months at a time multiple times. Then, without a flash of notice, it’s off to the races again and I have no idea what I, as Emma, even find joy in doing in my free time, what meals I want to cook, or even what my favorite color is; not to mention what professional path I want to pursue that could dictate the path I’m on for the rest of my life. (I’ve actually already decided I don’t believe in that BS where your early life decisions determine your later life choices.) A new version of myself comes into the picture without even an introduction and all of a sudden it’s out with the old and in with the new, but I didn’t even get to say goodbye to my old life?
What’s weird about going through so many transformations and experiences in such a short period of time can mean that some of the closest people in your life won’t get to meet those versions of you. I just moved to San Diego, and though I’m making amazing new friends, none of my ride-or-dies are here with me. The next time I get to hang out with my long-distance friends in person, we’ll be whole new people, yet to them, I’m still me, and to me, they’re still them… even with lifetimes of changes lost in the wind. This is how time works as a twenty-something. “Make new friends but keep the old, one is silver and the other is gold” goes crazy these days, because though new friends are amazing, they only know you for the versions of yourself you are from this point forward. I was just talking to my long-distance best friend on the phone today about people in our lives not seeing all sides of us and how crazy it can be to know someone as one thing and letting it define who they are as a person to you, rather than seeing them as a whole. It’s also not entirely possible to show the whole you, though, not even for the people who are closest to you. There are some sides of us that we may not even know are there, and some that we keep just for ourselves. The only person in the world who will get to meet all sides of you is yourself; cherish that relationship. To be human is to be complicated. Even though we can’t show all sides at once, we can always show up authentically. Authenticity is an invaluable currency.
Speaking of transformations, I thought my body changed for the first and last time when I gained and lost my version of the freshman fifteen five years ago. That’s definitely confirmed untrue. I don’t know how much more to say about this besides we should be having more healthy conversations about changing bodies in your 20s. Should I even begin the conversation about how we need to be teaching women and girls about the whole menstrual cycle rather than just their period, and how cycle syncing can be one of the most empowering practices you could invest your time in? I’m convinced the thread that the patriarchy is clinging on to is withholding feminine power from the beholder.
Back when I used to know everything, I also believed in “everything happens for a reason”, but what reason is consequential enough to gain from loss? Most of me still believes in this, though. Is anything absolute in this life?
I can definitely credit some of the unique-er chaos of my personal journey as a 20-something to my laundry list of neurodivergencies, which I wouldn’t change for the world, and also my newly discovered attachment style. I will say, though, that despite my love for my originality, navigating the world carrying a few more quirks than others seem to hold is often a challenge. Though, like I said, I like life to be a little bit loony. I’d much prefer a little attachment challenge to coasting by as an unscathed and secure energy that anyone could easily fancy. With great risk comes great reward.
Life until my college graduation was a classic example of convention, maintained surprisingly well by a free spirit lost in translation. I have a lot of gratitude for where I came from, and I still believe everything happens for a reason in the sense that I wouldn’t be where I am now without all of the experiences preceding. The “adjustment”, if that’s what you want to call it, to the “real world” has been incredibly challenging despite the freedom of no longer being assigned to the restraints of tradition. For the first time in my life, my next step is mine to choose, yet I’m not sure I even know how to walk without the crutches I’ve been leaning on my whole life.
The challenging era of postgrad does seem to be something that people are talking about, in safe quantities. Pre-grad, I knew the world to be a tough place, but for some rather big-picture concepts that are difficult to organically commiserate; like its environmental issues, social injustices, societal inequities, etc. Now, being a citizen of the real world, goggles of my old perspective abandoned with Pomp & Circumstance, I can’t seem to escape the flood of reality checks that steamroll over any pillar I once clung to as an explanation of the world around me. “Expanding my horizons” is another way to look at it.
After existing in and traveling all around this brave new world on my own after graduation, my neurodivergent brain freed from its conventional cage, the understanding I now have for life’s yin-yang of devastation and incomparable beauty is anchored in the staggering pain that is a mesmerizing life. After meeting all kinds of people in all parts of the world, the only conclusion I feel comfortable with cementing into fact is that we are all the same. Our external differences deter us from our astonishingly similar internal resemblance and, with it, the discovery that every one of us is just a mirror of the next. Beyond our genetic makeup being a remarkable 99.9% replication from one person to the next, we are all furthermore made of the same composition – stardust. The atoms that make up our bodies are the same in the stars, in our bones, and in the natural world around us. We are all one energy, and our energy is the essence of this universe. This is certainly a message that has not yet made its way to a traffic jam in Manhattan or the stands of a rival football game in the Midwest. What would change if we all led with more patience for the other beings we’re on this rotating marble with?
Tangents are valuable pieces of any story, but I’m getting my point back on track so I can close this out. I’m sure all of this cannot be relatable to the average 20-something. I’m in a unique place since, up until now, I have spent my whole post-grad life on the road, lacking structure and exposing myself to a funnel of endlessly new places, people, cultures, lifestyles, hobbies, languages, climates, etc, and it’s now all starting to register since I’ve put roots down. There’s something to be said about a moving body in a still mind, and a moving mind in a still body. We’re all on different paths, though, so we shouldn’t be able to relate to all the thoughts someone is having even if it seems like we’re in very similar stages in life. So technically, we’re all in unique places, whether you’re fifteen or fifty-two. Realizing I’m on my own path, one that’s impossible to compare to anyone else’s has also helped alleviate my mind from the societal pressure to feel “ahead” or “behind.”
Life with roots is not that bad, and I very much prefer it in this season of my life to any other path I could be on. I’m starting to focus on my health and wellness again, I’m learning more about a natural and nontoxic lifestyle, and I even bought a Sharkbanz to reduce the panic attacks I have while out in the surf. Life with roots has also taught me something about adventure that I didn’t pick up on the road less traveled: true adventure is found and decided within.
That’s all I have for you today. What normally would be an average page out of my journal is now this blog post. Because, as the punchline alludes to, we’re never alone in this decade, and I’m choosing to shove my filth into the spotlight. It’s a roller coaster for everyone. Even if some days you’re strapped into the cart against your will and thrown into the ups and downs with literal tears streaming down your face, those days are part of the journey; there’s value in every experience, feeling, and lesson. It is a blessing to be able to feel. So go out and FEEL! Do the things you’re called to do, meet the people, go to the places, eat the foods, read the books, try the hobbies, start a blog. God, we only have one shot at this thing so we may as well get the most bang for our buck. Seize the frickin day!
From my chaos to yours.
Bless up,
Emma
P.S. God is a woman.
