Redefining Life & Starting Over - ♥
Miley may have hopped off the plane at LAX with a dream and a cardigan, but I tripped walking into the terminal, lugging my backpack filled with cried-in tissues, an embarrassing amount of stuffed animals, a sweatshirt I would no longer need in the sweltering dry heat of California, and more excitement, fear, and doubt than I had the capacity to handle.
Given how many times I’ve done the East Coast to West Coast transition, I assumed permanently moving to California would be simple. I’d fall back into my old routines while trying to create new ones - meet up with old friends, visit familiar coffee shops and stores, go to the beach and linger in the waves of the Pacific, encounter new people and places - essentially fall in love with Los Angeles all over again. Unfortunately, and as hard as it is to say this, it didn’t really happen like that.
In my mind, moving to LA was the climax of my story - I would walk out of baggage claim, bask in the warm sunlight and tall palm trees, and take my next steps forward into adulthood. Story over, fade to black. I guess, in my mind, moving to Los Angeles was the happy ending I worked so hard for. But I quickly realized that, for all that I considered myself a proactive planner, I hadn’t really planned out my life post-college. I had only done so in the general sense with a simple list:
Move to LA.
Find an apartment.
Find a job.
It was straightforward, but complex enough that I felt I couldn’t add more to it. What I didn’t realize was that finding myself should have been added to that list. In fact, it should have been placed at the top.
I spent college being defined by labels - President, Advisor, Director, DJ, Writer, Honors Society Member. My understanding of who I was was completely defined by a resume I spent four years working towards. Truthfully, I felt completely comfortable with that. It made me feel safe, and I loved every minute of it. My college life was filled with hours of meetings and homework assignments, and the more I had to do, the more labels I had, the more reassurance I felt that I was going to be okay in life.
But on one sunny morning on May 17th, I was stripped of those labels I worked towards in one big swoop known as graduation. I expected to feel relief - I did everything I could in my time at college and now was my time to relax. I could finally catch up on the TV shows I missed, read a book off the long list I kept on my phone, and sleep in until noon with no reason to actually get up. But within the week after I left campus, I missed that life. I realized that everything I understood myself to be was essentially gone, and while I always knew those labels were temporary, I had convinced myself that the day they’d wear off would never come. But even with all this uncertainty, I took comfort in being surrounded by the friends I’d known for years and the family who understood me better than anyone I had in New Hampshire. I knew if I had them with me, and I could stay in contact with my friends from school, I would stay afloat.
This is where the LA transition became one of the bravest and hardest ones I could ever make.
It’s really hard to admit this, but this past summer I felt more alone than I ever had in my entire life. While surrounded by wonderful people in California (those people will never understand how thankful I am for them), and even though my family and friends were just a phone call away (some of whom even visited and sent thoughtful letters and care packages), I faced fear and doubt in ways I never had before. The only label I had here was “unemployed,” which to me felt synonymous with complete and utter failure at life. I desperately wanted to get rid of this label as quickly as possible.
Unfortunately I couldn’t get rid of it as quickly as I wanted to. I spent 6 weeks applying to jobs, sitting in my apartment playing out every scenario of how I might have made the worst mistake of my life by moving to Los Angeles. And amidst feeling this way, I encountered my first hospital trip that ended in five stitches and a finger cast that left me unable to bend my finger for two weeks. I wondered day after day if the accident was an omen - if I should have read it as a sign to turn back and go home. Those 6 weeks, I felt like everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. I beat myself up about it every morning when I woke up, telling myself that I had made a mistake for coming to California, that I was a failure, and that if I couldn’t make something of myself now, I never would. I cried every day, multiple times a day, feeling so lost I didn’t know if I would find myself again.
I wish I could tell you that I had a sudden realization that I was more than the labels - that there was more to life than finding that next title, and that everything just eventually felt better. But unfortunately I only had this realization after I found a job. Once again I had a label to throw on my ever-important resume and I no longer had to feel like the failure I told myself I was. But in this past week, finally settled into a new routine, I’ve realized that I shouldn’t only need this professional label to make me happy. I should have other parts of my life outside of work to bring me joy.
While I picked up a lot of hobbies in college, I lost a bunch too. I spent four years of high school singing in chorus and participating in the musicals, but quickly gave up all interest for student television shows and working at the radio station instead. I spent a year and a half of high school learning to play the ukulele only to give that up for more clubs and organizations, to the point that sophomore year I just I left it in my closet at home unplayed. The creative writing I did in my free time throughout my life, the hours spent thinking up characters and countless word documents on my computer, were pushed to the side for focus on academic writing assignments only. My definition of living a full life was redefined as being an active student who only thought about and worked towards their professional future. I gave up the hobbies I loved because I convinced myself I didn’t need them anymore and that professional ones were better. If it didn’t add anything to my professional future, what did it matter at all?
I’m sorry that it took me so long to realize this, but I feel very fortunate that I’ve realized it at all. I am more than labels. I am more than just a job, a resume, or a professional career. I am allowed to have other interests and dreams and goals, and even if I don’t stick to the original path I had planned for myself, that does not make me a failure.
I’m trying hard to take this new understanding to heart. I’m trying new things, pursuing new interests, but also rediscovering the ones I used to love and finding new ways to incorporate them into the life I want to create for myself. The life I truly want to live.
Long story short: moving to Los Angeles may be the bravest thing I ever do. I didn’t realize that at first, but it will force me to understand who I am in more ways I ever imagined. I was terrified of this at first (I’m still scared to be honest), but I’m also excited to figure out who I am, what my dreams are, what I love, what I want, what I enjoy.
I hope you have the bravery to find the life you want to live, as hard and scary as it can be.
