discomforts and dejections
this season of adulthood has been riddled with hard lessons, career uncertainties, and curve balls that rival even the best baseball players’ game. since the election, I have been stuck between a rock and a hard place, paralyzed in the fear that comes with institutions playing russian roulette with livelihoods and human rights. every conversation with friends is a uncertain “where do we go from here” and a reluctant acceptance that we have to play the cards dealt. it’s hitting close to home—not a matter of if but when will I lose job security. applying to jobs is a humiliation ritual in and of itself, a cesspool of ghost jobs, unrealistic expectations, subpar wages, and artificial intelligence as human resources sending you a denial before you even press submit.
truly, how are we suppose to live laugh love in these conditions?
it’s caused me to do what I always do—look inward and analyze every choice I have ever made since my inception to figure out where things went “wrong”.
“If I invest in Apple stock in ‘99, I would be good!”
“If I bought a house in 2008, I would be good!”
“If I stayed in state for college, I would be good!”
All of these shoulda, coulda, woulda’s with no resolution has me nursing the worst tension headache like I just got a ponytail done in decatur. It doesn’t help that I’ve been super self-critical since the fallout of a decade long friendship. every day the critiques that I make people uncomfortable, that im stubborn and unwilling to adjust my behavior, and that I’m a know-it-all has definitely made me so tender hearted. even in my most vulnerable and most well-intended moments, people can still pick you apart and project their resentments onto you. and, in a time where there’s so much uncertainty and anxiety about how to move forward, it can be demoralizing to have been read so wrong. the imposter syndrome from being read wrong can have you second guessing your own growth.
the quarter life crisis of young adulthood is reaching new levels of unravel. we are truly living in quicksand, too scared to move for we may sink deeper. internally, we are screaming at the nature of being stagnant.
if a plant is stagnant, is it dying? are we slowly deteriorating from the pressure and moment that is seemingly out of our control? is young adulthood a conundrum of freedom and responsibility with no true resources and security to enact it? how do we sustain in a rotting society?
every day is a exercise in not gaslighting myself. the world does a good job of exploiting self doubt and fear to drive chaotic decisions/actions. im wrestling between the exercises of letting go, holding out for faith + work to birth change, and maintaining my sanity through it all. society feels like a bullhorn forcing you to take swift action with little recourse. i continue to search for resolution.
