I’m about three-quarters of the way through a book that I borrowed from one of Joe’s roommates. It’s called Quarterlife Crisis.
I wouldn’t blame you if you thought, “I’ll say it is.”
To which I’d respond, “No, it was. This is the aftermath.”
My quarterlife crisis peaked in 2007. It’s actually not happening in real time as I write this blog.
It’s two years later. And with a little positivity, a lot of floatation device like support from some key friends and family, and the personal forgiveness only time and perspective can offer, I’m slowly starting to muddle through the debris of the confusion and hopelessness that catalyzed my quarterlife crisis (QLC from here on out; it’s not as cumbersome to type). Because I’m trying to learn from it so that I diminish the possibility of the 2.0 version. (Although more and more I think that it’s return is unlikely and that confidence is nice.)
…but all of that is beside the point because it’s not really what I wanted to share; it’s just what came out first…
So, I’ve found a lot of the book to be relevant particularly in light of the fact that I jumped into my own QLC with reckless abandon. In large part because, at the time, I didn’t realize that I was not the only person who was grappling. So as I read, I appreciate the hindsight camaraderie. And since I picked up the book for the same reason that I look through old pictures — to essentially go window shopping with my life and see how things look after some time has passed — I have been pleasantly surprised that passages have jumped out at me which seem applicable in a post-QLC environmment. For example,
“I had gotten what I was going to get out of it, and it didn’t feel right to push it further.”
I sure wanted to underline this sentence, but I didn’t. It’s someone else’s book…but the words…they just sounded right. Because it touches on what I’ve trying to say about my decision to leave D.C…I just have not done it as simply or as eloquently. I don’t want to leave because I don’t adore this city. (I do.) And it’s not that I don’t appreciate every ounce of history that has been made and is being made here. (I do.) It’s not even because I experienced some stuff here that really challenged me. It’s time to go because for now I have gotten out of it what I was going to get out of it and it doesn’t seem right to push it further.
So from here on out, I’m going to use that answer when people ask why I have decided to leave. I don’t think that Alexandra Robbins and Abby Wilner (the authors) will mind if I borrow the line.