So, I’m a little less than one month out from my 26th birthday and to be perfectly honest, I’m not really that excited for it. I remember turning 25 and I was happy to turn 25 because I always felt like people took 25 seriously. There is just a difference between saying you are 24 and saying you are 25…I noticed a drop-off in the “your still a youngster” type of comments. I could finally rent a car – yeah!
But turning 26 is different. When I was interning between my junior and senior year of college, the summer after I turned 21, most of the people for which I worked were 26 and 27 years old. I remember thinking (and this is only five short, short years ago) how old they seemed. How successful they looked and dressed. How mature they acted.
I look at the nearly 26-year-old person staring back at me in the mirror and all I can say is that you don't look at all like those people. The bed that I sleep on – I can’t get on it in the middle because the planks (it’s from IKEA) that keep it in the frame come off the frame and make the mattress sink. At the end of the day, the new game I play with myself is to see how much money I spent. If the total falls between $10 and $15, I consider the day a resounding success. Extra points if the total is less than $10. I have no health insurance and spend most of my time at the gym praying that I don’t break my leg on the treadmill. I could go on and on. Long story, short, this is a pretty far cry from what I expected from myself at this age.
On the other hand, I’ve never had better friends surrounding me. People comment to me that I look happier, more rested and more healthy. I finally started writing the book I’ve been promising myself I’d write for the last three years.
I guess my question is – what I’m currently struggling with – is what is more important to me? Success or happiness? Is it possible to acheive the very best of both? From the age of 14, I have always been pushing toward an invisible goal. I got top grades in school, I worked at night, I played sports on the weekend, I built that perfect college resume. I went to school for free, worked my butt off, but went into debt anyway and graduated right on time. I suffered for a year at my first job. I then picked up what little I had and moved to New York City to try and make it here. And I did.
Now, three years later, I look back and by all counts, things have been a success. So, I’m not making the big bucks right now, I’m just making bucks. I always thought I’d be engaged or married by the age of 28 because it seemed so old, let’s face it, that’s not even close to happening. (I now think 31 will be closer to everything for me.) But somehow, I’m weirdly calm and happy. The thing that makes me unhappy is the fact that I’m still ambitious, I just don’t know what I want to be ambitious about. Is my life's work really going to be devising marketing plans in a cubicle and then calling journalists and hoping they aren’t rude on the phone as I try to pitch them my clients’ stories? Then dealing with the clients' BS when things don't happen (or dealing with the BS even when they do?) Is this what all the late nights of studying, the sacrifice (can’t go to happy hour guys, I’ve got this press release to write!), the struggle, has been for? I just don’t think that for me, this is it. And it’s not that I don’t see the bigger picture if I continue down this path – the hard work now, earns the payoff later, but what about my youth? My happiness? My sense that I’m living the best life I can? (thank you Oprah!)
I can't help but wonder, and I wish I could ask, if the people that I watched so closely as an intern, did they go through these same feelings and thoughts when they were 26-years-old? If I had to guess, I would have to say yes...but they seemed so different from the girl (woman?) that looks back at me every day. I have no idea…and yet, reading this back over...I obviously do know some things for sure. But what is right? Is any of it even wrong?
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