Life (10 Year Version)

I graduated from college 10 years ago. Exactly 10 years ago today, I started my first job, first corporate job, and career in tech. I look back and realize I was so naive. I didn't know the difference between health insurance and car insurance. Hilarious for someone who now works at an HRIS focussed SaaS company. This piece isn't about my career however. 

I have been reflecting a lot on these past 10 years recently. I was a young, dumb kid. I am still young and dumb but slightly less so, less of a kid and more of a baby adult. I was joking with my friends that every time I see kids under the age of 10 now, it's usually with a parent my age. It freaks me out because I expect them to look my parents age. 

I have lived a lot of life in these last 10 years. I came to terms with my own grief. I learned that I am much weaker because of that grief than my peers who haven't experienced it. I am overcoming the deficiencies caused in my growth because of that grief. And more importantly, I am making peace with the fact that the world will sympathize but will never give me grace for said shortcomings. It's one of the most confusing things about grief (and trauma). It may have been imposed upon you but you are still accountable for your healing.

I am less judgmental now. I used to love the Anis Mojgani poem, Shake the Dust, because it reminded me that we all live our own heavens and hells. I knew this logically but I did not know this fundamentally. At twenty-two, my friends and I were still pretending that we were fine. We were fine because we did the thing. We took the honors classes, got into good schools, and graduated with honors in Practical Majors. Twenty-two is the age I was scoffing at Chris McCandless for abandoning the practical path in search of the Wild. I thought I wasn't judging but I judged more than ever, and it's because those judgments were projections of myself. I didn't have the guts to be brave so I criticized others for their valor. 

I understand Mojgani better now. Of what he meant when he said, this is for the bigots, for the sexists, for the killers. For the big house jail-sentenced cats becoming redeemers and for the springtime that always seems to know to show up after every single winter. I know life better now. How instantaneously it changes colors, like weather. A phone call to inform you of a Stage 4 diagnosis. A hospital visit that turns into a triple bypass. Someone had to drop out of school because they had to take care of their sick family member. Someone else got pregnant too early. And another person you know is on round eight of their IVF cycles. That one kid from high school is a convicted felon now, and the other one is working in Hollywood. Job layoffs, economy, war, E files, it seems to never end. People you encounter are going through their lives trying to survive this system built to destroy us. 

This is the last ten years alone. It has shown life, forced me to weather storms I didn't think I was capable of. Prioritized what matters, how to ignore what doesn't, and to live the everyday not the big moments. Your worst moments don't define you, and your best moments are just that - your best. The multitudes we contain are often a reflection of those around us. 

I am constantly evolving. The absolutes I knew were false. The Big Things weren't so big, and the little things were colossal. Being thirty-two is knowing that being present is the only thing I truly have. Bygones are bygones, what is to come will come. None of that matters. This current moment is the most important thing. 

I would tell my twenty-two year old self, you have some of the skills and some of the experiences. You're going to learn so much. It's terrifyingly exhilarating. 

I would thank my twenty-five year old self for starting weight training. 

I would congratulate my twenty-seven year old self for going to therapy. 

And I would hope that my forty-two year old self is wiser and kinder.