Lilith Saintcrow

Rebecca S., thank you for emailing. Sometimes it feels like I’m shouting into a well; it’s nice to know I’m reaching someone. Bless you. And, um, this one’s for you. Noli te carborundum–don’t let the bastards wear you down.

I was in my mid-twenties before I really realized who I was.

This is not as uncommon as you might think. We have this narrative in our society that you have to decide who you are in high school, that high school will define who you are by the time you finish it, and that you have to know your career by the time you graduate[1]. Which, quite frankly, is all bullsh!t.

I’ve talked this over a lot with the Selkie–about how a lot of people don’t have a clue until their mid-twenties. I partly blame high school for this. The system is set up to indoctrinate people instead of providing a good education. (This is, by the way, not the teachers’ fault. Rather, it is a fault of the priority we place on things other than education–like defense spending, or corporate welfare.) High school is most often a dog-eat-dog jungle, and plenty of people are so scarred by the trauma it takes them years to recover. Alternatively, people who find a way of dealing with high school and expecting it to be a valid way of dealing with the rest of their life can end up horribly emotionally mutilated, like cheerleaders at 40 trying to hang onto their fading youth and wearing hot pants, or balding overweight men trying to live out their high-school sports glories through their sons.

On an emotional, mental, developmental, spiritual (take your pick) level, I really didn’t find out who I was until I was about 26. That was when I started deciding, you know what? Eff all this. I’m going to live the way I want.

It’s a long, long process, and one I feel I’ve only recently got a handle on. (And I’m what, 32?) But the Selkie, from her place a little further down the temporal road, tells me this is normal. Mostly, she says, things just make her tired, and she has to allot her resources and energy more carefully.

This ends up with her taking a lot less crap, and cutting out a lot of BS. Which is, incidentally, part of why she’s so often my hero.

I wish someone would have told me that surviving high school intact is a badge of honor, and that it is not the be-all and end-all of life. Our youth-obsessed culture tends to emphasize high school as the most important part of our life (hello? Dawson’s Creek? One Tree Hill? High School Musical?) and as something that should color our responses for the rest of our life (Two words: Soap. Operas. One more word: Sitcoms.) I wish someone would have told me that it’s when you’re finally free of all that trash that you start finding out who you are and what you’re made of. That the road doesn’t end there, and that it’s completely effing normal to start “finding yourself” (what a misnomer, since you were never really lost) in about your mid-twenties. Sadly, this is after a lot of kids make some very difficult, very real life choices; since they don’t know that it’s perfectly normal to be confused and buggered-up about a lot of things between 18-26 they think they’re stupid, or less, or unsuccessful when they’re not.

And thus, a lot of misery is born.

I’ve been having long talks with the UnSullen Teen about this very thing too, since he’s reached eighteen and had a massive emotional shift–mostly having to do with the fact that a huge source of worry that defined his life for years (his biological family trying to make him come back and endure more of their attentions) is now gone. It’s normal to feel scared in free-fall. You hit eighteen and get out of high school, and all of a sudden the things that defined your life–being powerless under your parents/teachers, having your time decided for you, having the massive goal of a diploma achieved–are suddenly No Longer There. A tailspin of moderate to severe intensity ensues, and most kids are confused as hell since nobody tells them a goddamn thing about this. It’s like some huge secret.

The transition to coping with adult life is not at all like the transition into becoming a true adult. I’ve known fifty-year-olds who aren’t truly adult–they’re still using the same penny-ante high-school bullshit to define their lives and their (increasingly less-successful) responses. Being a legal adult and a true adult aren’t at all the same thing. Reaching eighteen is NOT the same as finding out who you are without the massive pressure of teachers, parents, peer groups, and advertising all fighting for your allegiance.

The Teen (and boy, I’m going to have to find another blog-name for him) tells me it’s a huge relief hearing both me and the Selkie say this. He tells me it makes all the difference, that he always felt like high school was a fake and it’s great to know he doesn’t have to decide all these things right away. That it is a relief to hear what he’s feeling is normal.

So, here’s things I wish someone would have told me about that 18-26 freefall. Your mileage may vary and all, but here’s some of the best advice I can give.

* This is the time when geeks and nerds usually find out they’re more prepared for the Real World. This can lead to a crisis, since a lot of geek or nerd status is defined by opposition. Relax. Just because you’re a geek or nerd doesn’t mean you always have to be a Loner.

* For Christ’s sake, just because you’re able to drink doesn’t mean you should do it until you black out regularly. You’re going to need those brain cells. Don’t pickle them. If you get bored, do community work or read a book. How fun is drinking until you throw up, anyway?

* You’re going to find out you’re smarter than you thought you were. Don’t let that trick you into thinking you’re also bulletproof.

* Yes, you’re going to find out that “friend” doesn’t mean “person I hang out with.”[2] It means, “person who will drive me to pick my car up at the mechanic’s” or “person who will help when I’m short on rent or starving” or “person who will not steal change off my dresser to pay for their drug habit”. “Friend” is a cheap word in high school. It becomes increasingly complex and expensive as you get older.

* What those cruel assholes said to you, did to you, or thought of you in the halls of _____ High doesn’t matter. It will take you time to get rid of the reflex of thinking they do. Be gentle with yourself.

* College is important, and not just because of the drinking parties. Educating yourself is an investment, not just something you suffer through. College is different than high school–you are responsible for what you get out of it, and nobody is going to hold your hand or do it for you. This often comes as a shock to a lot of kids used to hand-holding, especially kids who get a pass on academic achievement because of sports performance. Deal with it.

* Buying cool things is a nice benefit of being a legal adult. But a cushion of money so you can walk away from a bad situation is even cooler. Walking-away money means you can tell someone to eff off. THAT is the true measure of adulthood, not buying fifty different beer bongs or spinning rims. So save up.

* It is okay to be confused and to FEEL confused between 18 and 26. This is absolutely normal. It doesn’t mean that you’re a failure. It means you’re figuring things out. Take that confusion as an opportunity to try new things, to decide what you like, to decide what “being a decent person” means to you. These are questions it’s up to you to answer. That confusion is a valuable guide. It is also your friend.

* Trust me on the sunscreen.

* God (aka the Divine) does not care how popular you were or were not in high school. God cares about you being a decent human being. Everything else (including doctrine, dogma, proselytizing, and all other aspects of organized religion) is window-dressing, and window-dressing that wastes a lot of time. Being a decent person seven days a week is what’s important, not going to church one day a week and acting like butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth.

* Being thin isn’t important. Taking care of your body so you have enough energy to get through the day and be a decent, responsible person is.

* You have the capacity to be a wonderful, kind, funny, happy, and awesome human being. Use it.

* High school trauma is serious, yes. But once you graduate you don’t ever have to see those people again if you don’t want to. You certainly don’t have to care what they think. This is actually a blessing. Use it for all it’s worth–and start thinking about how you can let yourself stop them from running your life.

* The space inside your head belongs to you. It does not belong to your parents, your “friends”, your peers, or your priest/pastor. It is not just dumb meat. It is your best friend and your most potent ally. Learn how to use it.

* Don’t be a jerk. The world has enough assholes. Try not to add to that number.

* Hate will turn you into what you hate. Love is infinitely harder but infinitely more worth your time. Loving someone who mistreats you is fine. Letting them mistreat you is not. Respect yourself enough to say, “I may love you, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like shit.” Try to do this as early as possible in any relationship–and if the person keeps treating you like shit, run away before you become a hostage to the situation.

* Above all, as long as you are breathing, you have a chance to become the person you want to be. You are not used-up once you hit 18, or 30, or 50, or 80, or any goddamn age you want to name. Every day you wake up is a chance for you to work toward the person you want to be. Becoming who you want to be is not a process you’re ever going to be finished with. It is a PROCESS, not an ENDGAME.

I could go on, but I’ve got lunch to make, a shower to take, and work on Weasel Boy to do. So I’m going to close this long-winded post with a poem of Rumi’s I found on a postcard once. This got me through a lot of rough times between 18 and 26. I hope it helps.

Come, come, whoever you are
Warrior, wanderer, lover of leaving
(it doesn’t matter)
Ours is not a caravan of despair.

Come, come yet again, come.

Yeah. Like that.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] I am not sure if the development surge in the mid-20s is just a function of living in an industrialized, developed country; people in undeveloped or Third World countries probably have too much to worry about just in terms of getting enough food from day to day. I can only speak to what I’ve witnessed.

[2] I call this the “Mexican jail” standard of a true friend. The true friend is someone you can call at 3AM from a Mexican jail, who will get up and start figuring out how to get you out rather than hanging up and going back to sleep. Hyperbole, yes. Essentially true, yes. A friend is someone who you can trust, and who can trust you. That list of people is smaller than you may ever have dreamed.

Related posts:

1. Higgins, Isaak, and More Internet Kerfluffle
2. Cool Things, And Why I Won’t Attend High School Reunions
3. You Can’t Say You Didn’t Feel The Same At Least Once

This entry was posted on Thursday, October 23rd, 2008 at 12:35 pm and is filed under Real Life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.