Well... Here We Are Again

There must just be something about standing on the precipice of a decade that triggers an existential crisis in me. It's been nearly 10 years, and here I am again.

It's like when I turned 30 I became unmoored. Maybe it's all the changes in my life. I'm married now. I suppose that's another form of "graduation," right? Graduating from being single? I have a house, I have a mid-level corporate job. Two cats, a fish, a butt-ton of plants.

I felt (fairly) steady with my sense of self in my 20s. At least, as much as a 20-something can feel steady. Of course I struggled with dating, and I was shaken pretty badly after I left a truly soul-rending work environment. I spent a little bit of time wondering about my worth, if I was cut out for communications or adult life. In the end, it only took a couple of months to right the ship and stabilize again. I suppose I'm impatient.

Otherwise, the majority of the decade felt pretty steady, pretty predictable, really. Even if it wasn't always happy, even when I had experiences that made me angry, or scared, I felt like I had a solid understanding of what I wanted my life to look like.

And now it's all changed.

Sure, the wedding stuff was stressful, but I still felt in my element. Even for a little bit afterward, life felt refreshed, invigorating. And then I got passed up for a promotion that I was 100% confident I would get. Like, not even considered. And it just kind of set off a nuclear bomb within my sense of self.

Up until that point, I'd been growing into a kind of confidence I'd never lived in before. And that confidence was being validated by the people around me. I felt like I had a good understanding of myself and my capabilities. I suppose it wasn't really confidence, if a passed-up promotion made me call all of my identity and faith in my capabilities into question. But I won't gaslight myself. It's pretty devastating to throw your hat in the ring for a job that you've done for three months by yourself, in addition to extra projects within the past year, only to be promptly dismissed. There was a chat, but honestly, I wasn't even interviewed.

To be passed up on something that didn't feel like a stretch in the least, why would I continue to put myself out there? Was something wrong with me? Maybe I'm not as capable as I thought. Maybe everyone who's told me I do a great job was lying to me. Maybe I've been lying to myself.

Between having to adjust my expectations for myself and my job, having to onboard and train up my new manager, and coming down off of an intense, life-altering event two years in the making, I just kind of fell apart.

You know, even without those factors, I think it would still be reasonable if I did, anyway. I've struggled with depression for a lot of my life, so clinically and statistically, it's very likely it would come back. And the pandemic plus the domestic and world events of 2020 and 2021 seriously hurt everyone, not just me. And when the vaccine debuted, while the world and our psyches were scarred and reeling from previously-unfathomable change, fear, and loss, we just pushed it aside and went back to normal. As if we hadn't experienced terrible trauma, as if trauma is something you can just set aside afterward.

I was struggling with my sense of expectation and "normalcy," and so were a lot of people. And trying to pick up where we left off in 2019 just didn't make any sense. Nothing made sense. Life is just a big game of pretend. We're all animals made of flesh and blood and bone. Designed by nature to survive in earth and wind and rain and forests and plains and mountains. Yet here I sat on a video call in order to earn currency that exists only in the human mind and institutions, being asked to come up with a catchy phrase to change my perspective and help me ignore the very real problems of the world. To turn away from trauma and wounds and make my pain and its root cause disappear with a positive attitude.

"Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% what you make of it." That's bullshit. My flesh and blood brain is tired. My bones and my organs hurt. I cannot create something out of nothing.

The stress of it all took a toll. My mind gave out under the weight, unable to try anymore. Try to eat, try to wake up, try to respond to an email or answer a question. Try to look after myself in any way, much less look after projects and responsibilities that didn't really directly impact me. I started having dizzy spells and heart palpitations. When my husband didn't make me food, I didn't eat.

I went on a very sudden medical leave. That, or my doctor would send me to the hospital. Even so, with 6-8 weeks of rest, I was partially admitted anyway. Maybe I'll dive deeper into that another time.

In truth, I'm not "better." Not in the way I'm expected to be, anyway. It's been 11 months.

Of course, I'm way better. I can function again. Live without my husband playing the role of aide. Feel actual emotions rather than feel the empty spot on the shelf where that emotion should be. My therapist knows how far I've come. My therapy group, too. My doctor, my close family, my husband.

But my depression lingers, even if only a little, in comparison to where I was. And this is where I have to re-sow my parsley. In my early 30s, coming out of events that have altered my life completely. I don't think I want the things that I wanted before. I don't know what I want. Or at least, whether or not what I want is even possible.

Dearest Reader, I originally stopped blogging because of the pressure I put on myself. My posts had to be insightful, thoughtful, show a side of vulnerability, but still present a positive image. And I had to post every week. So I did what all good perfectionists do and just quit altogether.

I'm not doing it for you this time. Sorry. I need to be my full self this time. Maybe you'll reject it, maybe it'll be ugly to you. Maybe something I say will make you mad at me. I can't be sorry about it. I need to stop hedging my language and massaging my image to be invulnerable. 

Or maybe you won't think less of me. Either way, the whole deal here is that I stop getting my sense of self from external validation.

I realize that's what I'm doing in this note to you, so I'm going to stop now. Go suck pond water, Dear Reader.

Cue Quarter-Life Crisis (Is that a thing?)

Hey guys, it’s been a while.

Mid-January I was made aware of the opportunity to graduate with honors (something I didn’t think I could do), and since I only had to contract 2 more courses for honors in order to achieve this, I decided it would be a manageable and worthwhile pursuit. As fate would have it, things were a bit more complicated than that.  For my honors contracted courses, I ended up doing, in total, about 7-8 extra assignments between my honors courses (3 of them large projects/papers) and I also had to write an honors thesis, expanding a paper from a previous course to 10 pages and then presenting my thesis in front of the faculty for my department. On top of all that, on my honors graduation application, my cumulative GPA was about .03 short of what it needed to be in order to graduate with honors, and in order to bring it up, my semester GPA had to be about a 3.7. Additionally, I still had to manage leading a student org, engaging with my intentional community, working, volunteering, and (fragments of) a social life. [/excuses]

Sorry I didn’t have time to write, I hardly had time to sleep.

All ended well enough, though. I graduated with a medallion around my neck and a semester GPA of 3.9! And now I’m done. Forever.

Yay?

Sooo… yeah. Here I am. A grown up. Living jobless in my parent’s house. Writing a blog post.

Ok, so I just graduated. 3(ish?) weeks ago. By all reports, most people don’t have until several months after graduation. I definitely should not feel like a loser. I graduated with honors! I’ve had 2 internships and I do a lot of volunteering! I’m a hard worker!

But the fact remains: I do feel kind of like a loser. Up at school, I was told time and time again not to have a gap in my resume. And a few weeks isn’t really a gap... I’ve spent some of this time exploring different Pro Bono volunteering opportunities to keep me sharp while I look for a job. Every second I’m not employed or doing something productive with the skills I’ve spent the past four years developing feels like I’m wasting precious time in a job opportunity hourglass that’s about to run out. I know that’s not true. Everyone knows that’s not true.

There’s just so much uncertainty in my life now. For the first time in my entire life, I have no idea where I’ll be this September. I could be exactly where I want to be: in a full-time, degree-utilizing job in West Michigan. I could be thousands of miles away doing PR in New York or somewhere completely unexpected like Kansas City or something. Or I could be an unemployed 21 year old living with her parents. As someone who hates risks and uncertainty, this makes me super uncomfortable.

And I guess uncertainty in my future makes me feel like a loser? That doesn’t make much sense when you break it down.

I think part of my problem is that I’m going about this the wrong way. You know, for the first time since I can remember, my summer is completely free. I’m not working, I don’t have any school obligations; I’m completely free. I’m a 21-year old and I have a car: I can do whatever I want. As an adult, it’s time to stop seeing the future as a risk and start seeing it as an opportunity. I need to stop limiting myself, I need to take risks. If I don’t explore, if I don’t take risks, if I don’t even apply for jobs halfway across the country because I’m too afraid of what might happen, I’ll end up the same place I’ve always been.

So here goes. I’ll start small, but it’s time to stop tying myself down with fear of the unknown, and time to start embracing a world of possibility.

Living With Others is Hard

What do you get when you put 7-8 very different people who don’t know each other in a small house 15 minutes away from campus?

Surprise! It’s not immediate hugging, an abundance of rainbow stickers and best-friendship. I’ll give you a hint:

 it’s conflict. (My dear old friend… remember that one?)

Here’s the thing about relationships with people who are in very close proximity to you and who are not your family: we all have expectations for how those people will behave. 

Newsflash: they will not behave that way for you. They are their own person. They live by their own values and expectations. (GASP!)

I know, I know. This is a lot to take in. Feel free to take a seat if you need to.

In all seriousness though, you don’t really realize the expectations that you have for people until they behave in a way that completely disregards your expectations for them. And we all have expectations, for better and for worse. For example, although I’d like to believe that I’m considerate and community-minded, I know for a fact that I am fiercely independent. For this reason, I expect people to not ask me questions, to respect my choices without interference and to give me space, but this means that I tend to also expect people I interact with to be independent and solitary creatures who are self-reliant and self-motivated and who will mostly concern themselves with themselves.

Unfortunately, not everyone is me.

Correction:*fourtunately not everyone is me

People around me will question me and my decisions, people will want to be affirmed through frequent and lengthy contact with me, and people will need me to motivate them and hold them accountable for their lives. Normally, this isn’t a big deal, because most relationships in our lives outside of family don’t require us to spend enough time with others to the point where we notice them defying our expectations. (Anyway, we tend to share similar expectations as our family members because our expectations for relationships are partially shaped by the standards of the relationships we grew up in)

However, when you’re living in a house with 7-8 of your unrelated contemporaries, small moments that defy your relational expectations become more noticeable. Differences in relational expectations for each other create conflict.

My experience in an intentional community has been less about volunteering and community involvement, and more of a lesson in patience, humility, and getting along with personalities that defy my expectations.

The thing is, you have to learn to discard your expectations. Yeah, whatever, waahh that sucks, blah blah blah, but really: despite what you may think, you don’t know what’s best for other people. Let me rephrase that: everyone outside of your worldview comes from a completely different place than you, and they all have good reasons for believing and expecting the things that they do.

While it’s important for me to make my expectations clear so people can learn how to best work with me, it’s just as important that I understand other people’s expectations for me. I have to come to realize that people aren’t nagging me, they’re holding me accountable. That I need space, but others need proximity.

This kind of close relationship entails picking your battles. You need to give a little respect for the expectations of others if you wish to receive that same kind of respect from your peers. Sometimes you need to wave a white flag, and other times you need to be firm and explain why you expect what you do.

It’s one of the hardest things I’m having to learn. There are days where I really, really suck at giving up my expectations. But realizing that I have expectations at all is one of the biggest steps I can take toward being able to form better, stronger relationships with others. Learning how to deal with people who are different than you is a big part of growing up. 

If you can learn to be respectful, humble, patient and kind to people that you don't understand or agree with, I think that's a huge indicator of maturity, or reaching the ever-elusive "adulthood."

For now, I'm still learning.

Happy New Year!

Sorry it’s been so long since I’ve last posted… I got busy and then I wasn’t committed to writing posts every week, and things kind of got away from me. But I’m back, and I’m hoping to be better about writing this year. 

A lot happened between my last post and now: my summer internship was a huge success and a very enjoyable time for me to learn about PR and marketing in a professional environment, I began my last year of college, I moved in to my Project Neighborhood house, I sewed a ton of costumes at work, I got a new internship in the city of Grand Rapids, my friend got married, a few more of my friends/relatives got engaged, and I turned 21. You could say 2013 ended on kind of a crazy note. I’ll get to talking about all these experiences in time; to reflect on all of them now would make for an excessively long post.

2014 is going to be a big year for me. I graduate college in May, which means I’ll be starting out my life as an adult this year (which hopefully means a job and a place of my own for me! Although I know these things never just fall in to place like you expect/want…) Even though I didn’t think I was going to make any resolutions this year, I ended up making a resolution and listing a few things to hope/wish for.  Hopefully 2014 is good to me!

In 2014 I will…

Cut haters out of my life

Especially on social media. I have a tendency to let people say some pretty nasty things to me without ever challenging that. But you know what? If people aren’t going to be respectful or speak out of kindness, then I am not obligated to sit and listen to them. Plain and simple. 

In 2014 I hope to…

1.  Publish my poetry—why not take a risk? My professors say it’s good, I like it, so I might as well go all out.

2. Update my blog weekly—heh. Hopefully I’ll be better this year.

3. Go on an Adventure!—I don’t know what that will look like necessarily: road trip maybe? See a new city? Go to the zoo? That’s what I’m supposed to do while I’m young, right?

4. Read 12 books—1 book per month. I like books, and this will give me an excuse to read more.

5. Quilt something—I really would love to learn to quilt, and this will get me started!

6. Sew at least 1 dress/outfit—I love sewing, so this one should be easy.

7. Win a costume contest—I love sewing, I love Halloween, and I love winning. More great motivation to do more sewing.

8. Attend a fun social thing/make a friend—I need to get out more. Without motivation, I’ll just get up, go to work, go home and sit on the couch all night. Not good.

9. Spend less time on social media—As a PR person, I need to update my social media more, but I can do that while still spending less time online. I’ll get more done that way, and I’ll probably be happier too.

In 2014 I wish…

For a good start to adulthood

To learn to be independent

To kick off my career in Grand Rapids

To come into my own

May your 2014 be as totally rad as I’m expecting mine to be!

A Sudden Appearance of Hips

This week, the Public Relations student Org that I lead had a field trip to visit a local PR firm. Naturally, we wanted to make a good impression, so we decided to dress business casual for the visit. Sick of wearing khaki pants to everything, I decided to bust out my old dress pants from high school, since I’ve always remained a pretty consistent size. After promptly being issued a steep fine from the fashion police for wearing flared-fit pants after 2005, I noticed something.

The pants that had always been a bit too big on me were now really, really squashing my hips. As in, I sat down to think about how I could still probably wear them and get away with it, and my hips were like “DEAR GOD NO I WON’T LET YOU DO THIS TO ME” and I had to take them off.

My hips have always been bigger than the rest of me, and I have outgrown clothes before, but this was different. Normally, when I had to size up, it was because I was growing, and so I generally grew pretty evenly. But for the first time in my life, only one area is getting bigger, and it’s getting bigger because it’s gaining weight. I don’t fit into things nicely anymore; I either have to buy the right size dress and have it be way too tight in my hips, or buy a size up so that it fits my hips but is slightly baggy everywhere else. (when I told my friend about this, she gave me a proud smile and said “Kayla, you’ve finally become a woman. Welcome. I’m proud of you”)

I’ll have to admit, I was troubled by my gut reaction to my ill-fitting pants. The first thing that popped into my head was “I really need to stop eating all those processed foods” and “bikini season’s coming up; I really should start doing squats.” At which point I screamed “SHUT UP PATRIARCHY” and ran out to buy myself a large cinnamon bun and a bag of cheesy popcorn. (The food part’s true. I also bought two boxes of cereal, a loaf of bread, and a shower curtain for completely unrelated reasons.)

Concern was a weird reaction for me to have, especially since I know that I’m still very thin, and I’ve wanted to gain weight for a while. I’m certainly not ashamed of or concerned about my hips; I was even kind of proud when I went out to buy new dress pants and the “curvy fit” were the ones that were most flattering and fit best. It’s just a part of growing up. As my friend told me, “when you hit the age of 20/21 your body starts going through another set of changes” (I snorted when she said this; it made me think of awkward middle school talks but it also made me think of changing into a werewolf. Which I kind of hope happens too, because that would be pretty flippin’ awesome)

With these hips, I’ll most likely be turning into Shakira. But close enough, right?

In the end, my friend had me get up and show off my new hips, and we laughed about how I was finally getting curves and turning into a woman.

And you know what? I think I might just keep them.