The Quarter Life Crisis

I am having a QLC. A Quarter Life Crisis. This is when a person who is roughly a quarter of the way done with their life becomes irrationally nervous about getting older and becoming a part of the "real world." 

Did I make up "Quarter Life Crisis"? ...Maybe. It was either me or Freud. You know what, maybe it was Locke. Obviously, there's no way of knowing for sure, so let's just move on. 

I know this is silly because I'm still young and 10 years from now I'm going to look back on this and want to kick myself but still. I'm having a QLC and that's that. I can  now say the phrase "when I was a kid..." without being ironic. Sure, it's not a tragedy, but it's pretty sad, right? 

It started on my birthday in January.  My twentieth birthday was the first birthday I really didn't want to happen.  I called my mom that morning, crying, because it had finally hit me: I am becoming an adult. I recognized that it was foolish to cry on your own birthday, but there I was, crying all the same. 

(Side-note: crying in my pajamas on the phone with my mom...look out adult world, I'm coming for you)

My mother's response to my anxiety about entering my twenties? It went a little like this: 

"Yeah, well, this is a big decade honey.  This is when you get a job, get an apartment or a house, get married, maybe have kids- it's the most important decisions of your life, really."

...Thanks Mom. Now I'm totally relaxed. 

But she's right. This is an important decade. What did I do from ages 10-20? Have fun. Get taller. Decorate some posters for class projects.  For some reason, when I now look back at this past decade it feels like a blur of classrooms, family dinners, and car rides.  I'm lucky enough to have friends who have been around since before I was 10 even, and it's odd to know that I have actually seen them grow up. I have grown up beside them, and in the next 10 years, we're going to grow even more. I never understood how, as you grow older, the history of yourself truly builds.  It gets heavier, and richer like a tapestry being spun slowly out of a loom. Perhaps I never understood this because I never felt I had too much of history to claim until I turned 20. 

The QLC remained dormant for a while as I buried myself in the very college-ness that is my life.  There is no better way to live in denial of the real world than to be a student at Wake Forest. It's called the Bubble for a reason, my friends.  Sorority functions, going to class, planning for abroad, planning a philanthropy event, staying up late with my friends, eating an absurd amount of frozen yogurt- life was young, and completely non-adult. I wore sweatpants to class one day. My thirties self, who is (fingers-crossed) employed will look back on that day with envy. 

(Side-note: My hometown, Mountain Brook, is also referred to as the Bubble...so I like bubbles, sue me)

But then...it came time to celebrate the senior class.  Towards the end of spring semester, it seems that every other day you are celebrating some group of seniors.  No more kidding around, you have to face the fact they're leaving you and the Bubble because that's the way it works.  These celebrations are quintessentially bittersweet.  It's your classic reverse-sour-patch-kid moment: first it's sweet, and then it's sour. It's sweet when all of your friends come together and you realize how much you love everyone and how lucky you are to know them. It's sour when people start giving speeches and toasts to those graduating and your realize how much you love the seniors is an exact prediction of how much you're going to miss them. 

Guess what? I'm only two years behind these seniors. Thus, the QLC gets kicked up a notch. 

I know, I promise, I know that I will be fine. I do still have two more years of college ahead of me and, being realistic, I most likely have some grad school in my future (what's up Religion/English major).  Still, it's hard to shake that feeling of unpreparedness.  As my history grows, I feel like I don't have anywhere to put it. As if I'm trying to fit this big, bulky tapestry into my backpack when really, it's time I bought a suitcase. 

Here's to the next decade. Here's to having a mid-life crisis and wishing I could have a quarter life crisis in stead. Here's to the seniors graduating (please don't go) and here's to the good parts about getting older. Because, let's be honest, in just 5 short years I'll be able to rent a car and reserve a hotel room. Now that's living. 

Okay, now let's get back to studying.