Things lately have been hectic. I work a ton, party a ton, and try to stay healthy by exercising a ton as well. It seems like I blink and my days are gone. It's weird because I spend most of my days thinking about what I want: A nicer apartment, an apartment with windows in the living room, a higher salary to afford said apartment, a cleaning lady, a trip to the Caribbean, a nice suit, blah blah. A Bike, room to store a bike, a bigger apartment with bike storage, a six pack, a puppy, a room that can fit a queen bed. All these things I want. And none of these things I have.
I spend far too much time at work stressed and pressured and just utterly drained. And I find myself being jealous of the lives of others. The photographers that get to be out at photo shoots every day. The actors and musicians who get to perform and sing and *gasp* do what they love and even make a living from it. I even at times get jealous about the Starbucks workers, because they seem so stress free. Sometimes, I dream of quitting my job and becoming a receptionist so I can read magazines about Kim Kardashian's obese pregnancy all day and watch youtube videos of dogs dancing to hard core raunchy rap music. Because at my core, I'm quite shallow and very easily entertained by reality television and mostly anything uploaded to Youtube. Particularly if it involves a black woman "twerkin'" by the dairy aisle at WalMart.
But my job consumes me. I travel frequently, I interact with clients, and for the first time in my life and career I am in a position where what I do actually matters and my thoughts and ideas are now seemingly important and valued. Um, what? CEO's and CIO's look to me for answers and solutions for various problems, and I need to know exactly how to help. And yet, I'm (barely) 28 and scared shitless. I drink and smoke and maybe even pop an extra pill or two on my prescription, so the thought of my day-to-night-to-weekend transition from "Work Andres" to "Not work Andres" is a Paradox which I find comedic. And yet, people trust me with big responsibilities and look to me for answers. So, I can't let anyone know I'm scared shitless because in this industry and in this city, you have to have balls made of brass and never back down. If you're not on your A game, you're not in the game at all. So I put on my hustle and flow and make it work. Somehow. And it does.
And then I sit and daydream about laying on a beach while sipping a pina colada that's gently rested on the firm bum of a very sculpted cabana boy. Because I feel captive in an office. I feel captive to the anxiety and stress that comes along with being an adult. And maybe I'm realizing for the first time that I am somewhat successful. And, at times, I don't like it. Not one bit.
But this is exactly what I came to New York to do. I wanted a change. I wanted adventure. I wanted a job that travels. I wanted to be important. I wanted to be somebody. And now that I am, it scares me. I'm scared that I'm not good enough or smart enough or that I may burn out too quickly or, worst of all, that I'll start to hate New York because I'll associate it with stress and fear and anxiety.
I think a city like New York is actually exactly where everyone should live at least once in their life. The fear, the stress, and the desire to perform and come out on top, even if it leaves you broke and lonely with a piece of stale cheese in your fridge and a nickel in your savings account, mold you into a person you never knew existed. I would argue that the fear and pressure that I feel as I'm walking into a client meeting or a boardroom full of executives to give a presentation is nothing short of crippling and at times terrifying. But, it's something I wanted for myself. It's why I came. And the fear and pressure has taught me that no matter what, I can get through it. This city, beyond anything else in my life, has taught me the value of perseverance. I can't think of many other cities that can do that. Success and adventure and challenges never come if you don't leave your comfort zone.
And on nights when I find myself thinking "Shit, Andres. You're going to be 50 and living with a roommate because rent is too expensive. And you'll be working until you're 100 because HAH! What's a savings account? And you'll certainly be alone because no one in this city really wants to date. But maybe it's you. Maybe you're too caught up in yourself to let anyone else in." Maybe. All of that could be true, but I know one thing. I know that I can come home after a long day, pop an ambien, take a stroll a few blocks up to Columbus Circle and sit next to a couple on vacation from Spain and a homeless man reeking of urine and all three of us, simultaneously, can enjoy the beauty of those fountains that shine at night. And I know that I can walk over to the Duane Reade on 58th, give a dollar to the old homeless woman who somehow broke a small piece of my heart, and talk to her. About her life. Her dreams. And even Ed Koch.
"Tell me," she said, with tired eyes and a toothless smile that hid so well beneath her weathered face. "Tell me, do you know what happened to Ed Koch?"
"No," I said, nervous to disappoint her. "Let's look it up."
So there I sat, with an old homeless woman and my iPhone, reading to her the Wikipedia page for Ed Koch. Her eyes filled with tears knowing he had passed away in February. I asked her if she had known him, to which she replied, "Yes, but ohhh so many years ago". She told me stories of how she lived in France and England with her husband who worked as a wealthy bondsman back in the day. Stories of cocktail events and social gatherings and a life that most anyone would want. And, yet, here she was. All these years later her world turned upside down. And whether or not any of it was true, which it could very well be, it didn't matter. I was intrigued by the fact that a city which can give you so much can at the same time take so much away. And for that hour, the woman and I spoke and shared stories and even laughed. It's ironic because often times you think of homeless people as being "needy" or "relying on the kindness of strangers". In this case, she helped me realize what it is to be human and the importance of the relationships you have with others. It's not always about the money or the big apartments or the nice suits. I'm the first to admit that those are great. But they don't bring happiness - at least not long term. The only thing that truly brings happiness is the relationships you have with the people that matter the most to you. It's a lesson I need to constantly remind myself of.
In a city as busy and crazy as New York, it's funny to see how small things that slip by in the day to day grind have a funny way of reappearing when you just stop, look around, and admire the energy and life that surrounds you.
And just as things may have taken a turn for the worse for the homeless woman, it's entirely possible (even if unlikely) that things could turn around for her once more. And that's the whole point, isn't it? Possibility. There's always a possibility for something, or someone, great to come along. But we need to be available and open to those opportunities without letting fear or self-doubt get in the way.
I tend to lose sight of that notion, particularly when I get too caught up in the daily grind. I used to think "What do I want to do with my life?" or "How do I do what I love and still be able to make money?" And now, strangely enough, I more often times think, "What do I want to get out of my life right now?" Because this moment is all that exists and matters. The right now. So what do I want out of my life right now? I'm still figuring some of that out, but I can confidently say that I want a direction that points forward. And I think I'm finally getting it because at least I now know that I'm asking the right questions. And in time, the answers and solutions will come. They always do. Even if it's at 2am in Columbus Circle on ambien, chatting with an old, homeless billionaire.
Showing posts with label Quarter Life Crisis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Quarter Life Crisis. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Where did my life go?
As I sat outside my fire escape on a brisk Manhattan night, smoking my 1 luxurious 5 dollar Parliament in my shorts and a tee-shirt, I took a glance around to take it all in. I hear the sounds of dress shoes making that "clack, clack, clack" sound they make when a person wearing them walks briskly down a concrete sidewalk. A man walks down the street below me in a suit, and I can't help but wonder what he's doing. You know, like what's his deal? Where does he work? Did he just come from happy hour with friends, or is he just on his way home, dead and destroyed, after working a 12 hour day? Is it possible that he, this total stranger, can be feeling exactly what I'm feeling at that exact moment? Does he know his own life?
I see so much of myself in this city. The struggles of surviving, the stress of work and life and money, and yet I'm still here. Making it. Or at least trying to, like everyone else. But it's not just the city that's a struggle. It's not unique to just New York.
Life as a whole is a struggle, and at times an ugly bitch of one. Like Renee Zellweger without make-up in HD. But as I sit on my flimsy fire escape, nervous that it could give way and I could plunge 3 stories to my death, I look out and see so many opportunities for myself. I smile because my world has changed. One year ago, I was working in DC at a job I was bored to death with and desperately trying to find a way out. And when I packed my things for NYC and arrived. I got out of the car, took a deep breath, and told myself, "I'm here. I made it". That was far the from truth. I could have stopped at "I'm here." Because what lay ahead of me was something I would never come to expect.
The last 6 months have been the hardest of my life, to say the least. Between apartment nightmares, financial hardships, an excruciatingly stressful and demanding job, I felt I was reaching a point where I would just collapse and spontaneously combust, like a fireball that leaves behind an insignificant pile of ashes for the trashman to shovel into a bag and forget about. And then a stray dog meandering the city sniffs it, lifts his leg and slowly urinates. In this city, you can feel significant and insignificant all at the same time. But I look to see how far I've come, and I realize how much stronger I am then I ever gave myself credit for.
I've come to realize that change, in any form, is one of the most difficult and exciting and terrifying things all at once. I made a change because I felt it was the right thing for me at the time. I took a huge risk with my career and my life that at times seemed hard to justify. At my first job in New York, I was sprinting to keep up with the pace and the amount of work I needed to learn and perform just to stay afloat. Long hours, stressful and demanding clients, and a plethora of other factors that came together to form one big ball of "What the fuck happened to my life? Where is it?" I had quite literally been blindsided.
During this time, I was miserable. It took months of hard work and determination just to get out of DC and get to this one point, and this one point sure felt like a big sack of warm shit. I went through some of the darkest moments trying to evaluate my life and everything that was going on. Did I make the right choice coming here? Did my job fulfill me? A huge part of it was a dire unhappiness with the stressful environment at work. But was this really the only thing causing me anguish? Well let's examine the evidence:
1.)I'm quite literally the only person that can come to NYC, piss away my savings, attempt to walk everywhere as a substitute for a gym, and gain 15 lbs. I feel like Christina Aguilera stuffed into a burlesque costume and waddling around in my now too-tight-for-comfort jeans. Well it must be my demanding job that doesn't give me the time or energy to go to the gym. That's what I tell myself.
2.) I'm single. What the fuck? What ever happened to movies like Serendipity and every other movie ever shot in NYC that tells some fairy tale of two strangers meeting in a coffee shop or underground rave, falling in love over a $15 Latte, and walking hand-in-hand down 5th ave into the sunset? Shouldn't I have found the love of my life whilst almost getting run over by a cab and being saved at the last second? I'm furious. But I tell myself it's because I just work too much and don't have time to date.
So I was getting fat, not going on dates, basically putting everything on hold and using my long work hours and stressful life as an excuse. But then it dawned on me 1 day, as I sat in a bar at the shitty Port Authority Bus Terminal drinking beer and reviewing pics of my old trips with my coworker Colleen. She was horrified at the transformation from who I was in those pictures to the person that was sitting directly across from her, binge drinking a lukewarm Miller Lite. A picture of me half naked swimming in the crystal clear blue waters of the Aegean Sea in Greece. Was I happy here? Maybe for the moment. But I sure as hell was thin. And that made me happy. But was I truly happy as a whole? I was on a two week vacation from the IMF, where I was unhappy, so probably not. What happened to my life? Slowly through the "professional years" of my life, I lost control of it, and I needed to get it back. Where did it go? Who stole it?
To get my life back, I had to re-evaluate some things. First, I had to take a look at the things that are causing me immediate unhappiness - Work. Second, take a look at how I got into that situation to begin with - I settled for a job that was not the right fit only because I so desperately wanted to escape DC and come to NYC. Third, what do I do now? How do I fix this?
It just so happens that in order to get your life back, or at least regain some sense of control and a sense of self, you have to take action. That's what I've concluded. I'm a firm believer that if you don't like something, try to change it. And if you can't change it, find ways to direct yourself away from it. You can take measures to change the shitty situation you're in, or you can choose to remove yourself from it. Those are your two options. If work is unbearable, find out why. If the reasons behind it can be fixed, then fix them. If not, then it's best to remove yourself from the situation completely and wave a titty to your boss on your way out the door. It's JUST.NOT.WORTH.IT. Expand your horizons and open your eyes to what lies beyond your office walls. The moment I saw clearly how I could do this was the moment I started getting closer to finding my life again.
I worked hard to get here, worked even harder when I arrived, and worked hardest in order to leave. Not to leave NYC, but to leave my less-than-desirable state of grim that I've fallen into. I've sulked. I've complained. I've cried. I grew numb. I lost faith in myself. I grew afraid of my future and what it would look like. If I kept going like this, you would have found me in the corner of my apartment rocking back and forth and staring at the wall while repeating the words "This is not my life" to myself.
Admittedly so, it can sometimes be fun to feel like shit. Sometimes you just want to play the victim and wrap yourself in this cozy blanket of misery because it gives you an excuse to point all those fingers away from you. Because looking at yourself and your decisions would be too unbearable if you had to find out the truth. And as long as that blanket is wrapped around you, you feel a false sense of comfort and familiarity. A comfort that you think you'll miss if you had to let it go. This is how I lost my true happiness and my life to begin with.
I had always thought that hard work pays off, eventually carving a path towards some uncertain future and, within that uncertain future, a feeling of happiness lays amidst the fog in the distance. Well it's not only hard work that carves this path, but it's also your own ambition to want more for yourself. I know that I will always want the best for me, which means I will strive to go to the next level, and maybe even skip a few along the way. I'm no longer an entry-level 22 year-old college grad, so I won't take jobs that pay me entry level with the promise of some great opportunity for growth that may or may not exist. That was mistake #1 I made in NYC. I'm not a robot at a desk all day, because I'm a person that becomes stifled by the lack of creativity while I'm forced into processes and spreadsheets and repetitive motions day after day. And that, that right there, is how I started to lose sight of my life in the first place.
At the IMF, I felt suffocated by the environment and the city and the auto-pilot route my life had taken. I was unchallenged, coasting through life like a little flower girl at a wedding, walking down the aisle all la la la and throwing rose petals on the floor while people complimented me for doing such an outstanding job. And yet what was so outstanding about it? A drunk midget could do the same, which was exactly how I felt about my job. I was going through my life and my career not knowing that soon enough I could blink and ten years would have gone by. And then, all of a sudden, I realized I had gotten too comfortable. So comfortable that the thought of leaving scared me. And because it scared me, I left. I felt myself losing my life, becoming one of those people that works for the same company and after 25 years turns around with a blank stare, offers you a tired smile and says, "I have 432 days left until I retire. Want to grab a cup of coffee before this meeting?"
And when I left, I took the first opportunity I could find just so that I could reunite with my beloved New York. What is it about this place? It's disgusting and smells of sewage but my masochistic side loves it.
My hopes and dreams of a new life were literally pulled from under me within my first six months. I was blindsided by the work, the environment, and the demands of my job. For 6 months a fog overtook me and I was blinded. I had no idea what was happening. I couldn't see. Not one bit. But I knew I was still in New York. I could smell it and hear it, but I couldn't see what was there. Everyday for 6 months, I walked home like a zombie. And then one day after numerous nervous breakdowns, I sat in that bus terminal with Colleen and looked at pictures of myself from only 2 years ago. I was happy there in that moment. I want that happiness back. But I don't want it for only 2 weeks while I'm on vacation drinking margaritas naked in a pool somewhere. I want it always. And it's fair to ask to have it always, because we are human beings and we are living one life of ours that collides with millions of lives of others. And in there, amidst the chaos, lies happiness. Maybe the ambition I feel to want more for myself is what makes me happy. And maybe what they say is right, that enjoying the journey is mostly what it's about.
And now, through all of this, that blinding fog has lifted. As I sat outside on my fire escape, I had a greater sense of clarity for where I wanted to be in my life and what I wanted for myself. I'm no longer settling for a job where I'm unchallenged or constantly stressed or overwhelmed or taken advantage of. I want to give myself the choice of not settling. I have standards for the places I'm willing to live, the people I'm willing to date, and even the toilet I'm willing to shit in. So I had to set some standards for where I work.
Don't settle for being in a place that is slowly taking your life, because once you realize it and a long time has gone by, it's hard to find it again. Some of the greatest successes that ever come are as a result of removing yourself from your comfort zone. Without risk and excitement and some nerves along the way, then the journey isn't worth it. Take risks, be uncomfortable, know yourself, know your value, know the right questions to ask, know that somewhere within you lies ambition and worth. And no job, or even relationship, is ever worth the fog that blinds you to what's been there all along.
If your time to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'
I see so much of myself in this city. The struggles of surviving, the stress of work and life and money, and yet I'm still here. Making it. Or at least trying to, like everyone else. But it's not just the city that's a struggle. It's not unique to just New York.
Life as a whole is a struggle, and at times an ugly bitch of one. Like Renee Zellweger without make-up in HD. But as I sit on my flimsy fire escape, nervous that it could give way and I could plunge 3 stories to my death, I look out and see so many opportunities for myself. I smile because my world has changed. One year ago, I was working in DC at a job I was bored to death with and desperately trying to find a way out. And when I packed my things for NYC and arrived. I got out of the car, took a deep breath, and told myself, "I'm here. I made it". That was far the from truth. I could have stopped at "I'm here." Because what lay ahead of me was something I would never come to expect.
The last 6 months have been the hardest of my life, to say the least. Between apartment nightmares, financial hardships, an excruciatingly stressful and demanding job, I felt I was reaching a point where I would just collapse and spontaneously combust, like a fireball that leaves behind an insignificant pile of ashes for the trashman to shovel into a bag and forget about. And then a stray dog meandering the city sniffs it, lifts his leg and slowly urinates. In this city, you can feel significant and insignificant all at the same time. But I look to see how far I've come, and I realize how much stronger I am then I ever gave myself credit for.
I've come to realize that change, in any form, is one of the most difficult and exciting and terrifying things all at once. I made a change because I felt it was the right thing for me at the time. I took a huge risk with my career and my life that at times seemed hard to justify. At my first job in New York, I was sprinting to keep up with the pace and the amount of work I needed to learn and perform just to stay afloat. Long hours, stressful and demanding clients, and a plethora of other factors that came together to form one big ball of "What the fuck happened to my life? Where is it?" I had quite literally been blindsided.
During this time, I was miserable. It took months of hard work and determination just to get out of DC and get to this one point, and this one point sure felt like a big sack of warm shit. I went through some of the darkest moments trying to evaluate my life and everything that was going on. Did I make the right choice coming here? Did my job fulfill me? A huge part of it was a dire unhappiness with the stressful environment at work. But was this really the only thing causing me anguish? Well let's examine the evidence:
1.)I'm quite literally the only person that can come to NYC, piss away my savings, attempt to walk everywhere as a substitute for a gym, and gain 15 lbs. I feel like Christina Aguilera stuffed into a burlesque costume and waddling around in my now too-tight-for-comfort jeans. Well it must be my demanding job that doesn't give me the time or energy to go to the gym. That's what I tell myself.
2.) I'm single. What the fuck? What ever happened to movies like Serendipity and every other movie ever shot in NYC that tells some fairy tale of two strangers meeting in a coffee shop or underground rave, falling in love over a $15 Latte, and walking hand-in-hand down 5th ave into the sunset? Shouldn't I have found the love of my life whilst almost getting run over by a cab and being saved at the last second? I'm furious. But I tell myself it's because I just work too much and don't have time to date.
So I was getting fat, not going on dates, basically putting everything on hold and using my long work hours and stressful life as an excuse. But then it dawned on me 1 day, as I sat in a bar at the shitty Port Authority Bus Terminal drinking beer and reviewing pics of my old trips with my coworker Colleen. She was horrified at the transformation from who I was in those pictures to the person that was sitting directly across from her, binge drinking a lukewarm Miller Lite. A picture of me half naked swimming in the crystal clear blue waters of the Aegean Sea in Greece. Was I happy here? Maybe for the moment. But I sure as hell was thin. And that made me happy. But was I truly happy as a whole? I was on a two week vacation from the IMF, where I was unhappy, so probably not. What happened to my life? Slowly through the "professional years" of my life, I lost control of it, and I needed to get it back. Where did it go? Who stole it?
To get my life back, I had to re-evaluate some things. First, I had to take a look at the things that are causing me immediate unhappiness - Work. Second, take a look at how I got into that situation to begin with - I settled for a job that was not the right fit only because I so desperately wanted to escape DC and come to NYC. Third, what do I do now? How do I fix this?
It just so happens that in order to get your life back, or at least regain some sense of control and a sense of self, you have to take action. That's what I've concluded. I'm a firm believer that if you don't like something, try to change it. And if you can't change it, find ways to direct yourself away from it. You can take measures to change the shitty situation you're in, or you can choose to remove yourself from it. Those are your two options. If work is unbearable, find out why. If the reasons behind it can be fixed, then fix them. If not, then it's best to remove yourself from the situation completely and wave a titty to your boss on your way out the door. It's JUST.NOT.WORTH.IT. Expand your horizons and open your eyes to what lies beyond your office walls. The moment I saw clearly how I could do this was the moment I started getting closer to finding my life again.
I worked hard to get here, worked even harder when I arrived, and worked hardest in order to leave. Not to leave NYC, but to leave my less-than-desirable state of grim that I've fallen into. I've sulked. I've complained. I've cried. I grew numb. I lost faith in myself. I grew afraid of my future and what it would look like. If I kept going like this, you would have found me in the corner of my apartment rocking back and forth and staring at the wall while repeating the words "This is not my life" to myself.
Admittedly so, it can sometimes be fun to feel like shit. Sometimes you just want to play the victim and wrap yourself in this cozy blanket of misery because it gives you an excuse to point all those fingers away from you. Because looking at yourself and your decisions would be too unbearable if you had to find out the truth. And as long as that blanket is wrapped around you, you feel a false sense of comfort and familiarity. A comfort that you think you'll miss if you had to let it go. This is how I lost my true happiness and my life to begin with.
I had always thought that hard work pays off, eventually carving a path towards some uncertain future and, within that uncertain future, a feeling of happiness lays amidst the fog in the distance. Well it's not only hard work that carves this path, but it's also your own ambition to want more for yourself. I know that I will always want the best for me, which means I will strive to go to the next level, and maybe even skip a few along the way. I'm no longer an entry-level 22 year-old college grad, so I won't take jobs that pay me entry level with the promise of some great opportunity for growth that may or may not exist. That was mistake #1 I made in NYC. I'm not a robot at a desk all day, because I'm a person that becomes stifled by the lack of creativity while I'm forced into processes and spreadsheets and repetitive motions day after day. And that, that right there, is how I started to lose sight of my life in the first place.
At the IMF, I felt suffocated by the environment and the city and the auto-pilot route my life had taken. I was unchallenged, coasting through life like a little flower girl at a wedding, walking down the aisle all la la la and throwing rose petals on the floor while people complimented me for doing such an outstanding job. And yet what was so outstanding about it? A drunk midget could do the same, which was exactly how I felt about my job. I was going through my life and my career not knowing that soon enough I could blink and ten years would have gone by. And then, all of a sudden, I realized I had gotten too comfortable. So comfortable that the thought of leaving scared me. And because it scared me, I left. I felt myself losing my life, becoming one of those people that works for the same company and after 25 years turns around with a blank stare, offers you a tired smile and says, "I have 432 days left until I retire. Want to grab a cup of coffee before this meeting?"
And when I left, I took the first opportunity I could find just so that I could reunite with my beloved New York. What is it about this place? It's disgusting and smells of sewage but my masochistic side loves it.
My hopes and dreams of a new life were literally pulled from under me within my first six months. I was blindsided by the work, the environment, and the demands of my job. For 6 months a fog overtook me and I was blinded. I had no idea what was happening. I couldn't see. Not one bit. But I knew I was still in New York. I could smell it and hear it, but I couldn't see what was there. Everyday for 6 months, I walked home like a zombie. And then one day after numerous nervous breakdowns, I sat in that bus terminal with Colleen and looked at pictures of myself from only 2 years ago. I was happy there in that moment. I want that happiness back. But I don't want it for only 2 weeks while I'm on vacation drinking margaritas naked in a pool somewhere. I want it always. And it's fair to ask to have it always, because we are human beings and we are living one life of ours that collides with millions of lives of others. And in there, amidst the chaos, lies happiness. Maybe the ambition I feel to want more for myself is what makes me happy. And maybe what they say is right, that enjoying the journey is mostly what it's about.
And now, through all of this, that blinding fog has lifted. As I sat outside on my fire escape, I had a greater sense of clarity for where I wanted to be in my life and what I wanted for myself. I'm no longer settling for a job where I'm unchallenged or constantly stressed or overwhelmed or taken advantage of. I want to give myself the choice of not settling. I have standards for the places I'm willing to live, the people I'm willing to date, and even the toilet I'm willing to shit in. So I had to set some standards for where I work.
Don't settle for being in a place that is slowly taking your life, because once you realize it and a long time has gone by, it's hard to find it again. Some of the greatest successes that ever come are as a result of removing yourself from your comfort zone. Without risk and excitement and some nerves along the way, then the journey isn't worth it. Take risks, be uncomfortable, know yourself, know your value, know the right questions to ask, know that somewhere within you lies ambition and worth. And no job, or even relationship, is ever worth the fog that blinds you to what's been there all along.
If your time to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'
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