The Only Way Out Is In

And other dispatches from my mid-twenties

Perhaps this is the post where I finally expose to you all how “woo woo” I am. In another time and place, I’m convinced I would have been a deeply religious person. I love an inspirational quote, an impassioned speech, and a recurring hangout schedule. But in this lifetime, following modern trends, the tarot card girls have won me over. I like that there are more pictures involved, and the encouragement to take what you need and leave what you don’t. Also, the lack of an eternal damnation option really helps. And there begins the story of my year; Pulling tarot cards on the floor in my New York apartment.

On January 1st at 6:28 pm (thank you Apple metadata), I had no idea the slew of major changes, internally and externally, the year would bring. But I did know, on some level, that things were bound to change. While nothing was terribly wrong, things weren’t quite right either. Isn’t that how it always begins?

Sat alone, I asked the deck “What does the year 25 have to bring me?”

As with any message about the future, that sh*t makes no sense to you until it’s all over. That’s just the way of the world I suppose, and the difference between wisdom (wise beyond your years) and an incoming lesson (your years are definitely wise beyond you.)

Now, a month after I turned the weird in-between age of 26, things are coming back into focus. As all growth spurts require, this year had much more in store than I knew I had the capacity to endure. And while ranging on the scale from mildly uncomfortable to deeply confusing and panic-inducing, it was certainly never boring. As opposed to looking back at it with disdain or upset, I want to honor it as a time of massive growth and the true shift in mindset that it was. To officially close the year out, here are my reflections on 25.

and the white rhino follows by Elizabeth Maria Hudson

There’s really no escaping the human experience, huh?

As you may know, the idea of celebrating your frontal lobe’s development has really taken off this year. I truly can’t imagine why. Maybe some of you were blessed with defining moments of clarity and confidence at 25. I, however, with a force I imagine also accompanies being hit by a truck, have never felt so deeply aware of how old and young I am, simultaneously. For most of the year, I’ve felt extremely vulnerable. Navigating a layoff, moving back home, and several smaller uncertainties left me feeling like the only solid ground was the patch directly underneath me. Ironically, with more control over my time than ever, the feelings of independence and autonomy in my daily life slowly dissipated. As many anecdotes as I’ve received about growing up, no one warned me about the deep frustration that comes with knowing that this is the most you have ever known and yet, it isn’t nearly enough to provide the answers you’re seeking out most desperately. It’s one thing to be clueless. It’s another to know just how clueless you are.

On a networking call a few months ago, I was describing my dilemma over Zoom. When I reached the end of my diatribe, they said to me, with genuine warmth, “And it’s always going to be that way.” As many ways as people have delivered that message, something about her comment lingered.

I’ve talked to countless adults decades my senior about my worries and overwhelming stresses this year. While upset and confusion start to seep through my voice and facial expressions, they are almost always all but completely unmoved. And finally, at the top of my 26th year, I think the reason is finally starting to register.

I expected absolutely nothing that came out of the year. Beautiful things arrived as unexpectedly as the difficult ones. Things got much better and much worse than I imagined. I had moments of feeling very capable, and deeply ill-equipped just as often. And I’m realizing, maybe for the first time, that life will always feel this way. With time and circumstances, the balance of emotions will certainly adjust, but the menu of emotions is practically fixed.

Sometimes, you’re in a season of life where you realize you have almost everything you’ve asked for. In others, you may not even be sure where the next few days will take you. But for many of us, the steps between these realities are relatively short. My biggest accomplishments of the year occurred in the span of a month. My biggest decisions were made in mere days. At any moment, a shift in the wind can place you on a completely different path you couldn’t foresee. And there you are: In the season you so desperately wished for, but also weird and vulnerable once again, unsure of exactly what this new chapter will require of you.

If that’s the case, then my level of certainty, control, and assuredness being my chief objectives doesn’t make much sense. Traversing down the road takes up much more time than the arrival at the destination ever could. And once you’re there, everything after becomes a road to the next place (In other words…dang…it really is the climb.)

25 taught me that my ability to experience happiness and fulfillment is almost completely bound by my capacity to tolerate and embrace uncertainty. And boy did my tolerance grow. Which brings us to my next lesson:

You don’t get to reject the parts of yourself that feel inconvenient, but you can grow new muscles.

As humans do, in all of the uncertainty the year presented, I found a ravenous desire to contain my own “mess,” hampering down the parts of myself that I know are antithetical to stability and certainty. Top on my list of “traits that I would have absolutely loved to have rid myself of this year” include:

1. My incessant need to dabble before I figure out what’s for me.

2. My pull towards being on some kind of perpetual self-discovery journey.

3. My impulse to put my (metaphorical) hand near the fire to see how much heat I can take.

At their core, all manifestations of my fundamental, sometimes overwhelming curiosity. And while it can be the best part of myself, it can also completely wreck me. I get jealous of people around me who are much more focused and single-minded in their pursuits- To simply drive forward and have no curiosity about what’s happening right off the road. In some ways, what a dream.

But I’m just not like that. 3 or 4 ten-year plans are swirling around in my head that are completely at odds with one another. I have no particular allegiance to any of them. A part of me can’t wait to settle down in the next place I live. Another part of me is always flirting with the idea of ghosting my life at 33 and moving abroad. I ideally want a big family and no kids. How can I have both? Where are the great minds who are working on women truly having it all? I’ll be waiting.

In almost every part of my life, my curiosities are multifaceted, ever-changing, and wide-reaching. I am a student of life more than a leaning towards any particular path. And in a world so deeply oriented towards picking a lane and “niching down,” it feels messy.

But to turn away from that part of me, in a way, feels like being mid-wave in the ocean and saying “You know what, this is too much for me. I’m just gonna sit down.” The ocean, unfortunately, stops for no one. So, regardless of the destination, I’m learning to just move forward. None of us can free ourselves from the real shedding, unlearning, and surrender that life requires of us. Time and experience will naturally refine the path. You just have to pick a few ways to ride your board and keep going.

And maybe, with a shift in attitude, the ride doesn’t always have to be so painful. That brings me to my last lesson:

There’s no prize for suffering. Don’t make it worse.

@peathefeary

The world does not need another white man doling out spiritual advice. The world also doesn’t need more “tough love.” However, as I mentioned earlier, I love a good quote. And no single line has stuck with me this year as deeply as this one. Ram Dass, born Richard Alpert, was a spiritual teacher who popularized many Eastern spiritual practices in the West. Like many hippies (non-derogatory) of then and now, he got his start in psychological research and eventually landed at Harvard University, where he was later fired for giving LSD to an undergraduate student. I say all this because, in a way, it makes me trust him more.

In one of his talks, an audience member asks him how they can better cope with the demands of daily life. In response, he talks about how we often over-identify with the roles we occupy. For example, the requirements of being a “Parent” or “Employee” don’t just weigh on us for their actual demands, but doubly so with the narratives we tell ourselves about occupying that role. In time, we dig deeper and deeper into the roles we often fought to have, until they aren’t just things we do, but burdens we carry in every aspect of our lives. Thus, “You can do it like it’s a great weight on you or you can do it like it’s part of the dance.”

Call it romanticizing your life or whatever else you want really, but the core of it is this: Life, to varying extents, demands suffering. No matter what choice you make, where you were born, or who you were born to, you will experience some level of the worst of what the world has to offer. Knowing and accepting that, what incentive do I have to help the suffering along?¹

If I must be afraid, why would I be afraid miserably? If in this season of my life, I have to be unsure, why would I do it while cursing it? AKA, in religious tongue, the devil doesn’t need advocates, girl.

And in that space, void of the excessive need to make it worse so you can know it’s bad and everyone else can validate the badness of your situation, you might just find actual pleasure.

Exactly. That’s Dr. Spiderweb.shawty to you.

For as many lessons as I still need to learn, this year also taught me about my strengths. Amid the uncertainty, I chose happiness, peace, and balance when I could. I accepted help. I spoke honestly about how I felt. I prioritized my relationships with myself and those around me, even at the cost of maximizing other areas of success. It was far from perfect and not without immense support, but it was absolutely transformative.

Dear 25,

You are deeply appreciated, but I cannot emphasize enough how little you will be missed. Ciao!

1. This is, of course, referring to the type of problems where you have the ability to control your emotional experience. Not the ones where you actually do need to point all of the fingers, have a breakdown, and proceed to blow everything up - a method I also reasonably endorse.