The First You

The first you was hopeful. Not in the hesitant way that understands the real possibility of failure yet continues to spitefully reach and claw and bite and grab. You hoped in a way that was effortless. A way that required little thought and minimal reserve. A way that reminded you of breathing or chewing or digesting. You inhaled plans and chewed through probabilities and digested inevitable outcomes painlessly.

The first you was curious. Not in the vindictive way that craves insider information or whispered secrets or confidential collusion. You were curious about simplistic beauties and subtle mysteries. You wanted to know why colors exploded in the morning and how stars winked at night and when existence started to matter. You inhaled theories and chewed through novels and digested the intelligent guesses of old.

The first you was eager. Not in the panicked way that pushes you to try winning an invisible race or chasing a fabricated block of cheese or comparing your fleeting successes to others’. You were eager to run for no reason and laugh inappropriately and smile regardless of crooked teeth. You inhaled moments and chewed through memories and digested every outcome that could possibly come your way.

The first you was sure. Not in the exhausting way that leaves you convincing yourself or repeating affirmations or silently debating with overworked synopses. You were sure about feelings and flailing limbs and answers to questions that had yet to be asked. You were sure about the spaces you filled and the words you spoke because who you were in an instant was all that mattered. You inhaled promises  and chewed through insecurities and digested your ever-growing confidence.

The first you was trusting. Not in the apprehensive way that has you sleeping with one eye open and dipping your toes in a cold relationship pool, looking behind your shoulder for nearby lifeguards and safety equipment. You fell because you trusted you’d be caught and you cried because you trusted tears would be wiped away and you divulged because you trusted mouths would stay closed. You inhaled intimacy and chewed through confidentiality and digested affection until it was all you could comprehend.

But the second you felt your hopes crumble and now you spitefully reach and claw and bite and grab.

The third you felt the stings of curiosity and now you vindictively crave insider information or whispered secrets or confidential collusion.

The fourth you felt the exhaustion of eagerness and now you’re trying to win an invisible race or chase a fabricated block of cheese or compare your fleeting successes to others’.

The fifth you felt the embarrassment of being sure so now you’re busy convincing yourself or repeating affirmations or silently debating with overworked synopses.

The sixth you felt the pain of trust so now you sleep with one eye open and dip your toes in a cold relationship pool, constantly looking behind your shoulder.

And you’re left wondering when, if ever, the next you will be anything like the first

You are not infinite.

There is a certain theme that has been sweeping the millennial population: This is the decade to make our mistakes.

Experience seems to be the be-all and end-all of life in our 20s. We can never be too drunk, too lost, too unsuccessful or too confused. We’re here to “Do it for the story” and “Figure it out as we go.” We urge each other not to bother with finding the right partner, pursuing the right career or building the right kind of life for ourselves. There is no right, right? We’re young. We have nothing but time to mess things up. This is the time for us to let loose and have fun. There’s plenty of time for the seriousness that will come with our 30’s.

I cannot tell you how many times I’ve seen a friend leave a fantastic significant other because they’re “too young to get tied down.” I’ve cringed as perfectly capable peers have put off starting a career in favor of taking the time to “find themselves”. That’s an admirable sentiment. Self-awareness is important. But rejecting what we’re capable of is not what’s going to help us get found. Putting off the real world in the hopes we can “find ourselves” is a selfish endeavor that is bound to fail. The journey to figure who you are is never over.

We have to stop telling each other that 30 is the new 20. It’s not. Our bodies, our minds and our capabilities are aging as we go. We may have time to figure things out right now but that time won’t last forever. We cannot just watch our 20s go by in a drunken haze, moving from dead-end relationship to dead-end job and then expect to wake up at 30 having it all figured out. It won’t happen. We will wake up at 30 confused and unsure, wondering where the past decade of our lives has gone and why we didn’t use it to cultivate something more meaningful.

I’m not saying we have to figure it all out by 29. Success has no age and the maintenance of our triumphs is an ongoing project. But we cannot keep watching time pass us by on the basis of we’ll try for things later. Getting drunk four nights a week and working jobs that have no room for advancement are an insult to the people we could be developing ourselves into. We are robbing ourselves of the period of our lives when we have the most energy, the most creativity and the most freedom to express and create ourselves.

Sure, we have time to get things wrong. There isn’t a successful person out there who doesn’t know what it feels like to fall flat on their face. But the ongoing desire to “Live and learn” only works if we engage in the latter just as often as the former. The motivational speakers who preach the value of trial and error must be taken in context. Failure isn’t the path to success any more than potholes are the road to Disneyworld. They’re unfortunate bumps that we encounter along the way. Getting stuck doesn’t help us get anywhere. It’s the process of steering ourselves out of the potholes that makes for a better driver.

Let’s stop waiting until later to start getting our lives together. The beauty of being 20-whatever is that we do have time. We have time to try hard, fail hard, recover hard and come back hard. We have time to make every mistake that we’ll be damn well glad we’re done making by the time we turn 35. But we can’t let the mistakes be the end goal. We can’t let the experience define us. We’re not 17 anymore. It’s time we start defining ourselves.

Define yourself as a writer. A runner. A worker. A scholar. A painter. A parent. A planner. An adult. This is the time to become everything you’ll build on for the rest of your life. It’s the time to shoot for every pipe dream, develop every prospect and bring to life each ambition you’ve been harboring since you learned to walk and dream.

30 is not the new 20. But it turns out the old 20 is not such a bad age to be.

I'm not that girl

I’m not that girl who always has her eyebrows perfectly plucked. I try standing in front of a mirror for hours attempting to pull every last determined and stubborn hair. I really do. But my eyes start watering and my tweezers are the cheap kind you buy from a corner store for less than a dollar and after an hour or so I can barely lift my arms. And then I get distracted by my cat on the counter because I'm too ADD to focus for that long on something so boring. They’re bound to be uneven and I’ll just find another wild hair a day or two later and my bangs hide the left one (thankfully) anyway.

I’m not that girl who pays her bills on time. I can’t remember which ones are automatically deducted and which ones I have to call in and which ones will only take a check in the mail. I lose track of days or try to stretch dwindling funds in my bank account over weekends and, honestly, I secretly crave the adrenaline rush that hits when I need to make a payment by 5:00 and it’s 4:45. I can’t afford to go skydiving but I can afford this.

I’m not that girl who wishes for white picket fences. Beautifully placed lawn ornaments and a treasured swing tied to the front tree and two barking dogs excited to welcome me home has never sounded ideal. Weekly calendars and consistent to-do lists and monthly homeowner meetings fill me with dread where a sense of accomplishment should be. When things are positioned perfectly and cleaned exquisitely and sparkling just right, I get nervous.

I’m not that girl who’s always put together. I will say the right things at the wrong time or the wrong things at the right time or nothing at all when I should be saying all the things all the time. I won’t always drink too much but when I do I will be a mess. I won’t always cry but when I do it will be hard for me to stop. When eating dinner on a first date I will likely spill on the shirt I spent  an hour and a half picking out. I’ll laugh and call myself a klutz and consider it a fair warning.

I’m not that girl who knows the simple rules. I will clean up tomato juice with a hand towel and put sharp knives in the dishwasher and wash cold glasses in scorching water. I’ll try and fight oil fires with water and I won’t know that cold water actually boils faster and that the middle rack in the oven is for baking, not broiling. I’ll overshare too early and tell the truth during a job interview and constantly wonder how I missed the handbook to life everyone else seems to have read cover to cover.

No, I’m not that girl.

I’m that girl who knows the top three NHL's’ stars of the week, top scorers, best AHL teams, and alma maters. I’m that girl who knows that Ernest Hemingway preferred to write while standing up and met J.D. Salinger during World War II and had three members of his immediate family commit suicide. I’m that girl who wears two different colored socks and regularly misses a button on her cardigan and prefers to have her hair pulled instead of softly twirled. I’m that girl who forgets birthdays but not a deadline and can’t see the floorboard of her car but keeps her inbox perfectly organized and would rather buy new clothes instead of do her laundry.

I’m that girl who’s opinionated but open minded and stubborn but laid back and fierce but quietly breaking. I’m that girl with a spinning head and a wild mind and a hunger that is never fully satisfied.

I’m that girl who still hasn’t figured out what kind of girl she really is.

I hope I never do. 

I am not mad at you, I’m just a shitty friend.

I used to be the friend who would sit up on the phone all night listening to your relationship woes, the unabridged account of your day and your endless yet amusing ideas. Now, I hardly pick-up the phone, we text and I send you Google invites. I’m sorry.

No, I am not mad, I’m just a shitty friend.

I don’t know what happened between the 5 hour conversations and the 5 minute coffee dates, but I’m just not the same friend I used to be. Maybe we're growing apart or maybe we're just growing up. I'm not surprised if it was a bit of both. Once upon a time, it was you who had the life. I would wait for you to be finished with whatever kept you busy throughout the day and be ready and, most importantly, available to be your vent bucket. Even if I had a busy day, I would make it my duty to be present for your need to flush your casual musings, feelings and dirty secrets. I guess I stopped being just a warm-body and became a person with her own issues. I’m sorry for that.

I developed a persona I can’t shake. I’m secretive. That’s who I am, a secretive type of girl. I date without telling you. I make life decisions without consulting with you and make new friends without introducing you. Because of this secret life unbeknownst to you, my energy which has been used up in my own affairs are now on E as soon as I get to you. When you tell me great news or awful news and I don't react, it’s not that I don’t care. I’ve just turned into a shitty friend. See my apologies to you below:

To the childhood friend(s): We grow apart but I still love you. I know I said I’d call you but you promised the same. You didn’t call and I’m not worried. But I get it. I was the one to keep us all together. I’m sorry I’m not as dependable anymore. Let’s hang soon.

To the best friend(s): We don’t talk as much as we used to. You jokingly say I’m different lately but I know it’s true. You're different, too. I was always available to you and you viewed me as your sidekick. Sorry I am not fulfilling sidekick duties. Maybe you can see me as just an equal now. If you want..

To the guy I’m sort of dating: Hey. Sorry I never responded to that text. I just got busy. Then I forgot. Are we dating? I'm not really sure what’s going on.

To the friends I made at the games: We had great conversations. We took each other’s phone numbers and twitter handles and we said we would hang and travel together. Thanks for the text invites for drinks and other events. Sorry I never made it. See, I have serious introvert problems. You’re really gonna have to be the one to plan something. I know that’s not fair. Hopefully we can meetup again.

To my fellow shitty friends: You’re never around when I need you. You’ve always been a shitty friend but now that I am one too, I understand. You won't take the time to read this but sorry for not being a good friend anymore. I guess we’ll just be shitty together.

What's wrong with being single?

Being single is difficult for many people. You reach a point in your life when you feel like you have no one but yourself. It can affect your emotional, physical, and mental health. But being alone does not have to be the equivalent of being lonely. As Oscar Wilde once said: “I think it’s very healthy to spend time alone. You need to know how to be alone and not be defined by another person”. After spending five years in a relationship, I've realized there are many amazing things about being single.

You are alone, there is no one but you. Now, that may be terrifying at first, but it is also liberating. There is no one to tell you what to do. As they say, the ball is in your court; it's your move. You are in charge and you make your own decisions. No one else will do it for you, and you don’t have to worry about collateral damage. You want to go on a trip? Pack your bags and go! You will always be there for you. You are your best listener and confidante. You are your best friend and family. You can go out and not worry about trying to convince someone to go with you. It isn't about someone else's agenda, do what you want.

Since you are in charge, you have no one to tell you who you should be. This is your opportunity to discover who you are. Not only is the journey exciting, but you are closer to becoming the person you truly are. The closer you become, the more you realize you aren’t a collection of other people or what they think of you. You are not who everyone wants you to be. You are who you want to be. Be the best you — no excuses, explanations, or apologies necessary. The more you spend time with yourself, the more you focus on yourself and realize how you have your back. As they say, “If you don’t love yourself, no one will”. The best relationship you can have is with yourself.

There is no one to tell you what to do, but there is also no one to tell you what you cannot do. Being alone allows you to focus on yourself and discover your true potential. The ceiling that at first seemed suffocating, is now made of glass and you are breaking through it. You realize that you can achieve more than you ever imagined. Never be sorry for wanting more for yourself, and if you really do feel like you’re at rock bottom, just remember you can only continue going up from here.

Once you realize what you can achieve, you are unstoppable. You can begin to push yourself to move forward. Even if you fail, you just have to continue pushing. Nothing and no one is holding you back. This is your own life and you must chase your own happiness. If you can do it alone, then you can do it always.

You slowly start to remember those who have always been there for you: those characters from books, movies, and television shows have never let you down. When you were happy or sad, they were always there. You have experienced every possible emotion with them. They do not judge you and they never get tired of you. They will not grow up and leave you and you can always count on them. So watch your favorite shows, escape into your favorite books, relive your favorite movies. And though you may feel like it, you are never truly alone.

It is not the end of the world. You will find new friends. You will fall in love again. You will create your own family. But you will hurt again and people will continue to let you down, and that’s okay. You will become a stronger, well-rounded individual. You will discover who you are and what you can do. It will help you value the little things and realize you are important. Because you are not going to be alone forever, you are simply alone right now…and that’s okay.