Quarter Life Crisis

Since the pandemic, everyone decided that working the 9 to 5 grind is giving “poor mental health” vibes. Employees leave after being with a company for several years and realized they would rather spend their time with loved ones, explore, or discover their newest passion.

Gone are the days where employees put their job before their mental health, family, and free time, and I’ve got to say, I’m here for it. I’ve been on both sides of that fence; a child wishing my parents would just come home already, and a devoted employee, vigorously trying to prove how much of a an asset I was to the company.

I’ve come to find out that once you hit a certain age, you start to reflect on your life – the things you’ve done or haven’t done, and you suddenly begin to worry about if you’re heading in the right direction. Call it a wake up call, an awakening, or a mid-life crisis – for me, it was a quarter life crisis.

I remember the exact moment it began, never realizing it would spark so much anxiety and heartache. We were watching a movie, and one of the young actors who plays the son, was only three years younger than me. I don’t remember what sparked it, but we looked up the cast from the movie and discovered that he had passed away in 2019 from epilepsy. Subconsciously, this freaked me out.

Over the next few months, I kept getting this feeling, this sense of complete and utter dread. I kept thinking to myself, “He was younger than me and he died from the same condition I have. What if that happens to me?” Me being me, I kept dismissing it and told myself to be reasonable. I’m on medication for my condition, and haven’t had any problems since being back on it. As long as I take it, I’ll be fine.

Despite my best efforts to push out the negative thoughts, they kept coming, especially at night as I would lie down to go to sleep. You see, the only time I’ve ever had seizures, was while I was asleep and never while I was awake. The young actor who had passed actually died in his sleep from a seizure. *Cue the manic panic.*

As the months continued on, I was terrified to go to sleep. The catch twenty two of it all is that, if I’m overly stressed, tired, and/or dehydrated, my chances of having a seizure increase significantly. Those three things were, and still are, my biggest triggers, and I knew it. I knew how much I needed to have deep, peaceful sleep, but I was too afraid. It was getting harder and harder to allow myself to relax. When I would finally fall asleep, I’d wake up to the slightest sound, which can also trigger a seizure. Because I was awake, my mind started to race again, and I’d think about terrible “what if” situations and silently cry while my family slept.

Most of my “what if” scenarios revolved around what would happen to my daughter if passed away. How would she handle it? Would she still be kind hearted to others? Or would it absolutely destroy who she is? How can I teach her what I know about life and death so that she may find comfort within it all? I wasn’t mourning the thought of myself dying, I was mourning over how it would affect my family.

On top of my internal crisis, I was struggling at work. I was supposed to travel a lot, and the more I did, the more I hated not being home. One time in particular, I was away for a work trip, and my grandpa suffered from a stroke. Although it was minor, I was pissed I wasn’t around. If it had been a major stroke, I would have been hundreds of miles away. I used to enjoy traveling for my job, but as my daughter became older, I started to hate it.

The tasks they deemed important, I deemed insignificant. They gave me projects, I passed them off onto others whose job it actually impacted. I was more forthright than normal, which I know they probably didn’t care for. My tolerance for bullshit was at an all time low, and I was just over being something I wasn’t. I no longer wished to make myself like them, and longed for change. The culture of the company had drastically changed over the years, and I was growing tired of all the office politics. I was tired of the responsibility, often times feeling as if I was a glorified baby sitter.

I left the company and landed a seasonal, part time job. The learning was slow, but it was a nice break from the fast paced environments I was used to. Over time, I realized this is what I needed. I wanted to slow down and enjoy the days, not wish for them to be over. Now that my job was slow moving, I started to focus on learning things for my own personal enjoyment. The hours were consistent, no holidays, weekends off except for during the busy season; it was the no commitment job I was looking for. I could plan events without any last minute changes popping up, no phone calls about covering shifts, and no more crushing weight of responsibility. This continued for nearly a year, and I was loving it. I took days off without feeling guilty or being pressured into reconsidering. We even took a vacation because we were finally able to afford it. I felt like I was actually living after being in auto-pilot for so long.

Moral of the story is to follow what your heart says, even if you don’t know what it wants. Take it day-by-day, which is what I did for the first few months. I felt weird; no direction or drive. Eventually I created the routine I wanted to have, and slowly added what I wanted and took out what I didn’t. You’ll find your spark again as long as you keep going. Don’t give up.