Sometimes I think about the future me. I see her out there. She’s the me that exists on a timeline of maybe ten to twenty years in the future. She lives in a big city like L.A. or New York. She has a bunch of stories about her time in Tokyo, Istanbul, and Bali. She has a cool job, maybe as a producer or creative director. She is a best-selling author. She’s given a TedTalk or two. She uses her talents in a way that contributes meaningfully to the world. More than that, she embodies poise. She is well spoken, funny, and knows herself. You know. She is that girl.
In a weird way, that girl’s fate rests on the shoulders of this one.
Speaking of this one, let’s take it back to where I am right now. This is the real me. This is the twenty-one year old me. The me who is in a transition stage. The version of me that is “figuring it out”.
Most people told me about the fun parts of being twenty-one. It’s the age when you have the autonomy to go after what you want, but you’re still young enough that you have minimal responsibilities. And it does feel like those things. There are times when I feel like I have the future in the palm of my hands to shape however I want. I’m also learning there is another side to being twenty-one. It’s the side that is less talked about.
Sometimes twenty-one looks like rejection. It’s sitting in my childhood bedroom feeling defeated because I just submitted my 250th job application and I’m still not sure how to leave my hometown.
It’s the year where I find myself grappling with the two sides of me; one side craves novelty, experiences, and getting out of my comfort zone while the other side wants daily routine, stability, and schedules.
For now, twenty-one means making decisions that balance both of those things with the knowledge that I can never truly have it all, at least not at the same time. It’s maybe making the wrong decision, but knowing there was really no truly right or wrong decision to begin with.
Twenty-one feels like taking the next step into adulthood. It’s driving past my old high school when it occurs to me that I no longer know anyone who is a student there. It’s wondering how your old teachers are doing. It’s an age that comes with the awareness that your peers are going their separate ways. I know some who are married, others who have a few more years of school, and others have been working full-time for years. Sometimes it is even the realization that I am on my own path. There are no longer advisors or guidance counselors to tell me what to do or how to get the results I want. Suddenly, there are no A’s to achieve.
Twenty-one comes with asking those pesky
Who am I?
And
What do I really want?
questions, and answering them with brutal honesty.
Sometimes I try to focus on a different version of myself, one that is older and wiser. When I get caught up in the anxieties that inevitably come with young adulthood, She’s the one who tells me I absolutely should not worry about the wording on that application, to say yes even when it’s a little scary, and who reminds me there is really nothing to “figure out” after all.
This older, higher version of me makes me feel good about myself today. Who I am now is someone the younger versions of me could look up to and be proud of. For every time I feel unsure, there is also the side of myself that confronts the often uncomfortable truths of life with courage. I am the one laying the foundation for my older, higher self. That’s when I realize that me in the future, the one I thought was so out of reach, already exists inside of me. It’s exhilarating to be in the pursuit of a future I’m excited about, but along the way I’m realizing that I will not lose this girl on the pursuit of being that one.
Grace's Space 