The Best Years of Your Life, DAMNIT!

“I hope life isn’t a big joke, because I don’t get it.”

- Jack Handey

One of the eternal struggles (ok, 10-year struggles at most) of a twenty-something is knowing how to “take advantage” of this time.  We get so much advice from wistful grown-up-folk about what they “would have done differently” if they were starting out all over again.  That they would have traveled, taken more time for themselves before settling down, taken more risks…etc.

I can remember my senior year of high school hearing over and over again things like “oh my gosh, college will be the best four years of your life” or “If I could go back and do it all over again, I would!  It doesn’t get better than this”.  I couldn’t figure out why, but I HATED when people said that to me.  It didn’t make me excited, it was terrifying.  Graduation parties were the worst.  Every grown-up would ask you about your plans, where you’re going, what you’re majoring in and then follow with “Oh, Drew… enjoy it… they’ll be” I KNOW! THE BEST MOTHER-EFFING FOUR YEARS OF MY LIFE! 

Now, for some people, I think they truly are wonderful years.  Maybe the best of their lives.  But I was trying so hard to make them the best years, I honestly can’t tell you how I felt feel about them.  They were good.  I met great people, made decisions good and bad, and got two degrees.  The best four years of my life?  God, I don’t know.  That’s a lot of pressure.

A psychoanalyst named Karen Horney (yeah, her last name’s Horney.  It’s funny) called this the “tyranny of the should”.  I feel confused and lonely…but these should be the best years of my life.  I just went through _____.  I should feel wonderful but I don’t.  No amount of thinking about what should be is going to make it true.  We won’t ever be at peace with what is if we constantly focus on what should be.  Here’s an excerpt from The Defining Decade that touches on just this:

“Aren’t I supposed to be traveling in France or something right now, like for three years?” [Talia] asked

. . . With her tailored shirt and tiny handbag, Talia didn’t look like she would enjoy traveling for three years.
“Is going to France for three years what you want to be doing?” I asked.
“No,” she sniffled, “but shouldn’t I be having my own Eat, Pray, Love?”
. . . “Why are you asking about this now? Would you like to take a vacation in France?”
Talia broke into deeper sobs. “No, the truth is… I just want to go home.”
“Oh. Then let’s talk about that.”
When I asked about the “just” in “just go home,” Talia said she felt like going home would be “giving up” or “taking the easy way out.” The friends she’d made could not understand why she would want to leave the Bay Area and go back to Tennessee. Her father, someone whose own travels had defined who he was, said this was her chance for adventure. Whenever she hinted she wanted to move home, he would say, “Why would you want to do that?”

. . . This time we talked about what was real, not in terms of unemployment rates and starter jobs, but in terms of what was authentic for Talia.

. . . I told her that an adult life is built not out of eating, praying, and loving but out of person, place, and thing: who we are with, where we live, and what we do for a living. We start our lives with whichever of these we know something about.
Talia was enjoying her rising career in marketing, and now she had a clear vision about her place. This was encouraging.

. . . Talia started to wonder if going back to Nashville was taking the easy way out or if, at this point, she was doing it the hard way. “Why am I going broke living here? Why am I trying to meet someone so far away from where I want to be?” she asked.
“Good questions.”

Excerpt From: Jay, Meg. “The Defining Decade.” Grand Central Publishing, 2012-04-17.
This material may be protected by copyright

For me, that pressure didn’t go away after college.  It did morph into something a little different… it’s real sneaky-like that way.  But every time I come to a crossroads, I find myself desperately reaching out for approval and I realize that pressure hasn’t gone anywhere –it probably just shops at Ann Taylor Loft now instead of Forever 21 (but only because their low-rise jeans don’t cover its butt crack anymore or it would still shop there.  Wait, are we still talking about pressure?)  It’s been on my mind a lot as I try to navigate my current situation and here’s what I’ve found:

When in doubt, I choose “hard” because people like people who do hard things.  I like them too.  I want to be one of them.  So when I was facing what college to transfer to (Oklahoma City or Penn State) ... I went with my “gut” (read: what I felt I should do - since I didn’t know what I wanted to do): Penn State.  I knew I would get a degree from either, but people would be proud if I was able to move across the country, join a program in a school that none of us had ever been to, and thrive.  When it came time to decide where to move after college, my options were limitless.  I didn’t have a job yet, so I could go anywhere. Move home? Meh…. No one will be excited about that. How about NEW YORK CITY? Yes!  That’ll make ‘em proud!  There were of course other factors that went into these decisions, and I’m so happy for both of them, but approval was a big motivator.  The harder it is, the more they’ll say to their grown-up friends that I’m “making the best” of my time.  I wanted them to say “Wow!  I wish I had had the nerve to do that in my twenties.”  I wanted them to believe I was smart and independent.  That I was “wise beyond my years”. 

I’m not sure if it’s the fact that I’m a bit older now, that my current decisions affect more than just me, or if it’s just a phase (I hope not), but I’ve been working hard to eliminate external pressures. To not factor outside “approval” into my decision-making process.  I’ve been trying to make decisions all by my big-girl self.  What have I found?  No concrete answers.  Not one (yet).  BUT - I feel smarter and and more independent than I ever have before.  I don’t know if my decisions are right or wrong but I MADE THEM!  I made them, ya’ll! All by myself.   And I’m still alive, and they still give me a paycheck at work, and my family and friends still like me.  In fact, I don’t even think they care that much about what I decided.  It’s big.

I’m hoping this gets easier and easier as we get older.  I still value the opinions of those who are close to me, and I think there is a lot of value in the fact that they are older, more objective, have more experience, etc.  But ultimately, it feels really good to have ownership over your decisions (since you are the one who has to live with them after all). I don’t know where the line is yet, but at least I figured out that there IS a line!  Trying to put my finger on it…

I’ll keep ya posted –

-d

“The best years of your life are the ones in which you decide your problems are your own. You do not blame them on your mother, the ecology, or the president. You realize that you control your own destiny.”

-Albert Ellis

Saturday DIY on the UES: Half Moon Nails

Ok, so it's Sunday not Saturday.  but I'm confident that we're all going to move past that...

Today's Upper East Side DIY is how to get that 'half moon' design on your nails using paper hole reinforcers.

What you'll need:
 - 2 different nail colors
 - Hole punch reinforcement stickers
 - Emery board
 - Top Coat

Now go moon somebody.

 - d

Sanskara

Although I didn’t feel particularly “balanced” this morning, I was (and am) feeling good.

It was one of those mornings where I woke up confused about where I was, what time it was, and if I had just been dreaming or if my guinea pig really had just been stolen out of my carry-on bag on our flight to Columbia.  Since I know your comments are about to flood in with concern – no, she was not stolen.  She was in her cage.  Just out of water.

The weather here in NYC has been crazy gross, so I threw on some yellow rain boots (that always look ridiculous), a leather jacket (which is never the best option for rain/snow but I spilled bronzer on my white wool coat) and braved the commute to work.  It just felt like kind of a “messy” morning. You know the ones. So I spent the first 20 minutes of work trying to go from craze-o to professional advertising exec.  Here’s me in the midst of making the transition:

As I drank my coffee, I clicked on an article on yogajournal.com to try and “center my thoughts” while I ate my granola and snuggled up in my sweater made of wheat grass (just kidding, I was just on Yoga Journal…wearing a shirt from H&M).  The story was about a man who used yoga practice as a way to fight (doesn’t seem like the correct term when talking about yoga, but whatever) his depression.  He talks about a Sanskrit word that yogis use: samskara or sanskara.  In YogaSutras it is defined as “negative sense impressions that cause suffering”.  The idea is that there are moments and events in our life that leave an imprint on our subconscious minds.  The concept sparked my interest, so I did a little bit of should-be-working-but-whatever digging.  Literal translations of sanskara include “impression”, “coming together”, or “seed”.  This makes sense because part of the overall concept is that these sanskara or mind imprints not only affect but direct your decisions, wants and experiences.  Overall, there is a negative connotation.  These events that leave an imprint are specifically negative events.  But how interesting that the literal translation for these negative imprints would be seed.  Those Egyptians (Indians? Babalonians? Who the hell spoke Sanskrit?) were on to something.  Every time one of these negative events happens in our lives, a seed is planted.  We can choose how to cultivate it.  Some people say they don’t make a choice: “what will be will be”.  But choosing to not make a choice, is still a choice.  This seed will turn into something and I think we have a lot of say in what it will be.

The thing I love most about this idea is that it’s not actually about the bad thing, it’s about what the bad thing causes – what it becomes.  It’s never about the seed (unless you’re one of those people who has recently gotten into adding Chia seeds to all your food in which case we can’t be friends) it’s about the tree, flower, fruit that seed becomes.  Don’t get me wrong – I’m not trying to be some Pollyanna – the bad thing is shitty.  It’s not pretty or flowery and it doesn’t taste like berries… but I would argue that it’s nutritional (considering most nutritional stuff sucks).  The result of it has the potential to be beautiful… if we recognize and cultivate it.  And we might as well do just that, because the seed is planted whether we like it or not.  The bad thing will happen and make an impression on us, and there’s nothing we can do about it.  The good news is, the bad thing is not the end or even the point of the story – it’s about the potential.  The seed – the sanskara.

I broke up with someone recently.  Said it.  And it’s a bad thing because it’s a really hard thing.  And to be honest, I have no idea where it will go.  I have absolutely no idea what it will lead to, where I will end up or how I will get there, but it’s my seed.  No matter what ends up happening, something beautiful will come of it because I want something beautiful to come of it.  Already, I’ve made countless positive changes in my life, thought about things I would have never thought of otherwise, and continue to be so grateful for the time we had together.  Whether it’s to cheer myself, to design what I want my life to look like, or just to fill time trying to stay busy, most of my resent decisions have revolved around that seed.  And they’ve been good decisions.  Already it is turning into something beautiful.

I’m going to do all I can to remind myself that it’s not about the bad stuff.  The bad thing is a big deal, but only because it grows into a big deal – and that’s the part we have control over.  I’m going to try not to forget that.

I’ll keep ya posted,

-d

Brooke, My Best Friend

Today’s a tough one.  An empty one. Work has been slow, which I think makes it harder.

Whenever I feel especially empty, and I don’t know what to do with myself, and going home to eat Cheetos, watch Parenthood and cry sounds perfect but vaguely unhealthy – I lean on Brooke.  She’s my very best friend in the whole wide world.  We met in Kindergarten.  I was best friends with Erica Thomas and I now know that Brooke was jealous and not a fan, but she didn’t show it at the time.  She just patiently waited for me to figure out that Erica was maybe not the best and then was right there when I figured out that Brooke was, in fact, the best.  She was already classy when the rest of us were still just trying to walk out of the bathroom without our dresses tucked into our panties.  

One time in Kindergarten I was coloring in Mrs. Hailey’s class and my finger got stuck.  I know now that my fingers are double jointed and it was a cool trick, but at the time I thought it was broken and frozen like that forever and I started crying.  Brooke smiled even though I could tell she was scared and bent my finger for me so it went back to normal.  We both laughed even though I know we were thinking “what the hell did your finger just do don’t tell your mom and I hope that never happens again. Alien.”  But she didn’t say any of that.  In fourth grade, I liked Taylor Hirst, and one day he got into his mom’s car after school and then got back out just to tell me he thought I was funny.  I ran back inside to tell Brooke that Taylor thought I was funny and she did a little jumping dance with me in the hall outside Mrs. Moon’s room.  In fifth grade Brooke’s neighborhood was re-zoned to a different elementary school and she called my house phone without asking her mom, even though we were supposed to ask before we used the phone, and she told me and we both cried.  Sophomore year, I sneaked into her house while she was still sleeping to surprise her for her birthday and got glitter in her eye, but she wasn’t mad.  She was only sad for just a second.  Then we went to college half a country away from one another but our parents bought us plane tickets to visit each other every semester.  And tonight I’m going to her apartment to sit next to her.  She’s too tired from work and said she has to nap, but I’m always allowed to sit next to her no matter what she’s doing.

She’s irreplaceable.  I don’t think I’ve ever trusted anyone more in my whole life, and I thank Dumbledore for her every single day.

I saw a commercial the other week that reminded me of Brooke and told her about it (There are two little girls and one is black – Brooke is black- and the other is white – even though I’m not blonde I’m pretty sure I had that haircut in Kindergarten.  So yeah, the connection was a little racist, but mostly just awesome).  The other night during The Bachelor, Brooke was making dinner in her kitchen and I yelled “BROOKE IT’S ON! OUR COMMERCIAL!”  She ran in to watch and when it was over, we did a little it’s our commercial we just saw it and it’s us! dance on her couch.  Now whenever it comes on and we’re together, we wait for the two little girls in it to meet each other, and when they do, we do a mini ‘Look we met! We did it! We met!’ celebration and then laugh through all the other commercials.  This is it.  She’s so scared to get on the bus, and I totally know the feeling.  She’s so brave…. it’s precious, so you should see it if you haven’t:

I don’t know how people get through hard times without people like Brooke.  Maybe they’re stronger; maybe they have to be stronger because there’s no one who will let you sit next to them every single day while they carry on with their lives.  Maybe that strength is good for them.  But I don’t care, because I know she’s not going anywhere.  And when the time comes, I’ll carry on with my life and let her sit next to me every single day for weeks.  And she can say the same things over and over again a thousand times, because she needs to.  And she let me do that once, and never said ‘get over it’.  Not once.

Love you Brooke.  And I’m so lucky that you wanted to be my best friend in Kindergarten.  See you tonight.  (You’ll be napping, so I’ll let myself in).

- d

“This is how it works. I love the people in my life, and I do for my friends whatever they need me to do for them, again and again, as many times as is necessary. For example, in your case you always forgot who you are and how much you're loved. So what I do for you as your friend is remind you who you are and tell you how much I love you. And this isn't any kind of burden for me, because I love who you are very much. Every time I remind you, I get to remember with you, which is my pleasure.”
― James Lecesne

 

Choose Joy! Dr.'s Orders.

Y’all, I have a lot to say.  I won’t say all of it, don’t worry (but I’ll probably say it all to Danielle sitting next to me and then she’ll be sad that I didn’t just say it all to you).

I watched (half of) a documentary last night called Happy and it’s got my wheels-a-turnin’.  I did fall asleep in the middle of it (because I was so darn happy) but I think that it's a good thing I did because just that amount of information has given me enough to marinate on for a couple days.  It explores what makes people happy in cultures around the world, basically with the argument that once basic food and necessities are accounted for, money/materials have little to do with people’s happiness levels.

This isn’t necessarily a unique concept.  We hear that kind of stuff all the time: “live simply”, “slow down”, “money can’t buy happiness” … and while all of that may be true (and probably is in my opinion), researchers and psychologists have been getting a bit more scientific in the last 20 years.  Apparently, we’ve been studying the negative end of emotional and psychological disorders for hundreds of years, but the scientific study of what makes people happy is relatively new.

For instance, take a look at this image of this child discovering bubbles for the first time:

Just kidding, there was nothing related to that in the film, but isn’t he just so CUTE!? Ohmygosh he’s so cute.

I won’t summarize the whole thing- you should just watch it.  But something that I found particularly interesting, and very relevant to my current situation and mindset, was this concept of baseline happiness.  This is the idea that we are all born with a “base level” of happiness (like literally, we’re born with certain chemical balances, hormone balances, in our genes, nothing-you-can-do-about-it baseline happy) and our bodies will always bring us back to this equilibrium over an extended period of time.  That accounts for 50% of our overall happiness (which is a whole stinkin’ lot).  After that, it’s up to us – our attitude and the decisions we make.  We can increase our happiness level, or of course do the opposite by preventing ourselves from reaching our equilibrium.  Sound familiar?  It’s scientific proof that we can (and should) choose joy!  That choice matters!  It 40% matters!  (The other 10% is current circumstances… it’s too much, just watch the film).  But it matters.  A lot.  And what a comforting feeling knowing that even if we’re too tired/defeated/hopeless to make that choice, our bodies are naturally going to take us back to our baseline.  Back to a place where we can make that choice again.  In that way, we are incredibly resilient naturally.

Once you’re there, there are tons of ways you can decide to increase your happiness.  Based on the research, the most effective thing is connection.  Whether it’s with friends, a lover, or family, connection with people tends to be the most efficient way to increase your level of happiness (not surprised, right?  People rock).  There are many more: exercise, varying your routine, a term they call “flow”, confidence in the workplace, just to name a few.  But it all begins with the choice to be happy.  Love that.

I’m going to choose to watch that bubble baby a few more times and then see where the day takes me.

I’ll keep ya posted.  Love y’all.

- d


P.S. - That didn't do it for ya?

Check out this hospital window-washer who dresses up like Spiderman to cheer the kids up.

Or this this little boy who's obviously having the best day of his life.

Or this photo of the happiest animal alive.