The Age Old Fight

At what age are life-crises inappropriate? The target age to flip your shit with mild to little trepidation from friends and family and perhaps the occasional console “it’s only a phase dear. S/he’ll grow out of it” is fifty-something. Finding yourself in a mustang convertible with two misplaced cheerleaders and a bottle of Rogaine in the glove compartment at age sixty something is borderline, concerning, and an indication that you missed your golden opportunity to make brow-raising decisions (read: fool of oneself) a good decade ago. Peak too early, and you find yourself on the other end of an “intervention” or worse, committed. “I was just expressing myself” or, “I need to find out who I am” are age-sensitive excuses either for students on their Euro-binge/East Asia-backpacking sprawl of a gap year before they get their so called life back on track, or the wo/man who after crying over their first over-the-hill birthday card which was received on their eight forty-second birthday, tries to make up for their lost youth by engaging in every adventure sport and sport instructor they can get their hands on. And frankly, it’s not fair.

I had my first coming of age meltdown at eighteen and no, I’m not proud of it. I knew eighteen was the beginning of the end but what I didn’t realize was, my rational would lend itself to argue that 17 too, was the beginning of the end and even, every day from there on would be, the beginning of the end. Morbid, I know. And a waste of thought too, but at the root of my anxiety was our cliché “live every day as if it were your last” or a little less sad, “to the fullest” and finally everyone’s go-to quip “seize the day.” My first life-crisis was in fear of not making the most out of the time I’ve been given and how different is that from the philosophy behind the mid-life crises we forgive? And now, four years later, a recent college graduate with my entire future ahead of me, again, just as it were in days, weeks, and months before with my life, still ahead of me, I face another life-crises and boy, am I being harangued by the upper echelons. I dare say I am the subject of ageism. Because were it not for my lack of life experience or, as it were, requited age for bitching about those white streaks in my hair, I wouldn’t be lectured in patronizing tones about the illegitimate agency I have to make untraditional decisions that pave a new way of life. Simply, I’m being told quite boldly, that I am not allowed to behave the way I am, to get my ass back in line and do like the other chickadees do. But, since I do have white hair at the tender age of twenty-two, I’m going to go ahead and take control of this situation and create a life for myself with the grace and wisdom that comes with age. Because what I really am doing, is reflecting on what direction I want my life to go in, and acting accordingly. Is this any less appropriate than a midlife crisis?

What I am struggling with in this most recent crisis, is how to best serve myself in a society that guides post-grads and individuals at large into a mainstream homogenous lifestyle. How, do I manage to translate my personal values and long-term goals into a sustainable way of life when they are not parallel to and sometimes even clash with social norms for the average twenty-two year old? For example, I’ve been told that as a first priority, I need to make money. Regardless of the glamour of the job, I need a pay check, I need to support myself, I need to earn cash and when and only when that happens, can I make movement towards another goal. So, chickadee went to market and got herself a menial job in the interim until “the real deal” came along. And when the job ceased to be fulfilling and meet expectations, I reevaluated what I was doing with my life. How quickly the months of interim passed and how little I had to show for it. Not only were my days seized by the wrong people, (namely, not myself) but my goals seemed to fall increasingly further away. I’ve started to question my own priorities. What is more important to me: a paycheck with weighty strings of frustration and unhappiness attached, or less monetary stability and the added ability and time to consider what would be a worthwhile way to spend my life? Fortunately, I feel privileged enough to have the opportunity to choose the latter with comfort and knowledge that not everyone can afford to make a similar choice. Next comes an ethical dilemma; Do I place myself amongst the many, go to a job I hate, pay my dues, and cross my fingers that I one day get out of it because everyone else is doing it too? Just because some people don’t have an alternative, a choice, does that mean I have to suffer as well? Contrastingly, would I be doing a disservice in not taking such a gift, by turning my back on a valuable opportunity? Would I show humility and selflessness by falling rank and file? How are we fighting the good fight and how has it changed? Do I give myself the opportunity to fight for a life that can be well thought out, enjoyed from the very beginning, envisioned and conscious? Or, do I do what I’m told, meet the pre-natal expectations and risk regretting wasting time for the sake of following the process toward leading a successful life? Is success still measured monetarily? Has no one paid any attention to the MasterCard commercials?

So, what am I doing here? A lot of thinking, for one. I’m going slightly left of the grain (shocker). I’ve decided not to demean myself by doing work that isn’t meaningful to me. I'm forgoing the steady pay-check and going to wing-it. And, to be clear, it isn’t the act of the job that I find demeaning, it is not doing everything within my means to fight for living life to it’s fullest by my own core beliefs and terms that is demeaning. In not consuming myself with the crazed thought of making a dollar, I’m giving myself room to experiment, to grow, to consider. I am slowing my life down and taking advantage of the fact that this life is it. My decision to do what makes me happy in the moment is under review as irrational. I think it’s just untraditional. Regardless of the characteristic of my most recent decision and current thoughts, would I get away with this behavior if I had a full head of white hair?