And so it begins
I’m having an existential crisis — at least that’s what my therapist tells me. So let me tell you what’s been on my mind and you can decide for yourself.
What the actual fuck am I doing with my life? What am I meant to be doing? What is my purpose? How do I know for sure? What if I pick wrong? Do I want to be an influencer? Their lives just seem so easy. Do I want to delete all of my social media? It's fake. And stupid. And pointless. Where do I want to live? How do I decide when there are so many options? What if I pick wrong? What if I pick wrong. WHAT IF I PICK WRONG?!
I looked up the definition of existential crisis and google gave me this: An existential crisis is a period of deep inner conflict where an individual questions the meaning, purpose, and value of their life.
Okay, so my therapist was right. These are existential questions, sure. But they are essential questions, are they not? And common – I mean who hasn't asked themselves at least one of these questions before? It seems like a rite of passage to the human condition. And yet, these questions seem unanswerable. The Universe has a cruel sense of humor that way.
As I sit down to write this, my very first essay for Sincerely, Skylar, I really haven’t the faintest clue of where it will go. But as I pondered what I am doing with my life, where I want my life to go, and what I enjoy doing, the only thing that became incredibly clear to me, was that I love to write. Writing brings me joy.
Not stress.
Not anxiety.
Pure, unadulterated joy.
So that’s what I am doing. I am choosing joy.
Certainly, a bio of some sort would be helpful context to the current headspace I am in while I write these essays, though you may have been able to guess based on the existential questions I posed a few moments ago.
I am twenty six. And as I write this, I reside in the state of Washington… And I hate it.
The people, the place, they feel so far from home.
I was born and raised on the East Coast — Connecticut, to be exact. Which has in some way very pivotally shaped who I am, so significantly, in fact, that I cannot even begin to tell you all of the ways that seemingly forgettable state has seeped into my bones, my bloodstream, and refused to bleed out.
Funny, that. Considering all of the flack Connecticut gets for being nothing more than a “drive through,” state. Though the people who drive through are missing out. To this day, all of the best food I've ever had, came from Connecticut. And it is a massive factor as to why I consider dragging my husband kicking and screaming back.
I have two cats, Girl and Wally, who I love deeply even though they are a great inconvenience to the freedom of adulthood. You never want to believe people when they warn you not to get a pet. And so, you learn the hard way. Such is the way of life, I suppose.
I am recently married, to a wonderful man who has taught me some of life’s greatest lessons — patience and kindness being at the very top of that list.
I am a sister, to a brother, who I played a part in raising. Such is the role of the eldest daughter, I suppose.
I am a daughter. A blessing and a curse, which I am sure eldest daughters can attest to.
I have a great job that pays me well enough. I work fully remote and have unlimited PTO. Truly, I am a very lucky girl.
And yet, there’s a beast that gnaws at me. Scratching and clawing – threatening to skin me alive if I ignore it any longer.
More! It screams.
More! More! More! It howls.
So I strain to listen. I press my ear to the door and close my eyes.
I hear it… so faintly.
Louder! I beg. Please! I will listen! And I would. I really would.
But the more I beg, the quieter it gets.
Which is how I ended up sitting, here, writing this essay, with tears in my eyes, a knot in my stomach, and hope in my heart.
We'll figure this out. Together. I promise.