So This is What Twentysomething REALLY Feels Like

When I opened up WordPress today, I meant to write a post about my trip to London (a trip where my best friend and I spent $140 on dinner and met a waitress with twelve fingers). Rest assured, I’ll still be writing that post, but right now, I’ve got something else on my mind.

Recently, I went through something so “grown up” that I honestly never thought I’d experience it. After all, anyone who knows me is more than aware of my lack of talent in adulting.

Not that I’m totally irresponsible. I always complete work on time, can successfully use a washing machine, and am fully capable of feeding the cat when my roommate is out of town. Still, none of that prepares you for something like this.

On Friday morning, my coworkers and I found ourselves without a job. I’m not going to get into it more than that, but this totally shook me to my core. More than anything else, the way people reacted to the news—including myself—was completely unnerving.

People who had previously left the company showed their bitterness in their words and shocked me with their tactlessness when it came to speaking with someone who had just lost their job. It really made me wonder: if I had left when they had, would I completely forget all of the hard work, soul, and time I’d put into this company? Or, an even more disturbing question, had they never cared for the company or anyone who worked there at all?

But before I judge them in too harsh a light, I have to reflect on my own reactions. Immediately after it happened, I could think of no one else but myself. Anyone who wanted to talk about something other than my loss of a job and the disappearance of my company was cruel or unimportant. At the same time, I couldn’t (and still can’t) stand being looked at with pity or asked concerned questions as the center of attention. I don’t want people to delve into the situation because anyone outside of it has no chance of understanding.

So what does this leave me with?

Today, I spent the morning reading with a cup of coffee. I applied to some interesting job descriptions and fought the fears in my stomach that I wasn’t skilled enough to do any of them.

During this, I couldn’t help but ask myself, isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?

I mean, how long have I dreamed about sleeping in, waking to the sunlight dripping into my little bedroom, grabbing a cup of coffee, and getting to write and read the day away?

But the question comes with a tinge of sadness. Sadness at having watched a company that we worked so hard on end. Sadness at the realization that this isn’t something my parents can help with. I can’t call saying I have a sore stomach, be brought home, and have them reassure me that everything will be okay. It might not be.

So, here it is. This is twentysomething. It’s strange. It’s frightening. But it’s real, and we just have to discover why we’re still so happy to be in this stage of our lives.

 

 

 

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