Growing the F--- Up: What I've learned in my late 20s

Adults can still build blanket forts. Right?

When I was 14 and on a rafting trip in Nepal with my family, I did a survey of our fellow travelers that included the question, "Do you feel like an adult?"

All of the 20 and 30 somethings that I surveyed put, "No." [This was an actual survey. I wrote down the questions and asked each person to write down their answers.]

On that theme, I've been contemplating writing this blog post for a while now. And really, I have only one thesis or overarching idea here: 

Your late 20s is when the things that you've avoided dealing with start dealing with you:

This could be anything--a fear of public speaking, a problem with authority, that parking ticket from four years ago that you forgot to pay (oops), your $2 store shopping addiction, your overwhelming hatred for your job, the crap you haven't forgiven your parents for, your beef with God, your lack of a life outside of work, your dread of parallel parking, your out-of-control credit card debt, compounding interest on your student loans, the deteriorating state of your dental health, your aversion to brussels sprouts, your lousy choice in romantic partners, your friends all moving away, and I could go on.

In other words, if there is some area of your life that you have neglected to grow up in, that area of your life is going to make itself felt in a major, probably uncomfortable and possibly painful way (it will bite you in the butt).

If you don't start owning it, it will start owning you. If you don't take care of it, it will take you out. If you don't kick it in the ass, you'll end up on your ass. It's all the same advice, actually.

Why is this? I think in the first half of your 20s, it can be easy to coast on things like good health, natural talents and abilities, friendships you made in college, a solid education, an overweening confidence in your own potential, blatant naiveté, and youthful optimism (obviously, these are not true for everyone).

But unless life is a consistent downhill slope, it's impossible to simply coast forever. Eventually, you will reach a hill. I hate hills.

Like Aristotle said, "We are what we repeatedly do." If what we repeatedly do is eat cheetos for breakfast and complain about a dead end job at the crayon factory, it doesn't matter how talented or healthy or privileged we are. The results won't be pretty.

In your late 20s, things can start to fall apart (or feel like they're falling apart). Things like your body. Or your relationships. Or your career goals and aspirations.

So let's talk about the roles of pain, fear, and grief in this process.

The Role of Pain

Pain is a sign that something is wrong. Where in your life are you feeling pain? Is it in your body? About your body? In your relationship with your parents? In your identity as a man or woman? In your frustrations about your job?

I think it's helpful here (borrowing from Dr. Henry Cloud) to distinguish between the pain of growth and pain that is just simply bad--the kind that screams at you: "GET OUT NOW." Pain can also helpfully point to underdeveloped or neglected parts of our lives.

For example, if you're feeling the pain of loneliness, this could point to a need to develop new friendships or nurture the ones you already have. Now is your chance to pay attention to what the pain in your life is telling you--whether it's, "Hey, maybe you should lay off the spicy Thai food" or "I would like to make new friends" or "It's time to leave this job. It's not going to get better."

For me, years of blithely confident good health gave way to panic when I started experiencing pain, discomfort, and, worst of all, tingling in my upper back and neck. I could barely stand to sit for the 8 hours a day required at my desk job. But although the symptoms (such as pain) were only then showing up, my guess is the underlying issue probably started a long, long time ago.

But it wasn't until pain showed up that I started paying attention.

[Note: Take care of your body. It is the only one you have.]

The Role of Fear

This is about more than just Instagram-fueled FOMO (fear of missing out). There's the fear of missing out on the important things we're meant to do in our lives, whatever they may be.

The fear of never writing that novel or screenplay. Of never making that film. Of never taking that risk to start our own business or apply for that dream job.

Recently, "adventure" has been a theme in my life, and I realized that adventure always involves risk of some kind. And where there is risk, there can be fear. However, the best kind of fear is not the crippling fear of making a mistake that keeps you from ever venturing out on that ledge. It's the kind of fear that pushes you to venture out in the first place.

Am I more afraid of screwing up or am I more afraid of never getting to do what it is I want to do? One kind of fear confines you to a tiny box in which you can almost guarantee you will never make a mistake. The other kind sends you out into the unknown where, yeah, I guess something terrible could happen, but also something wonderful.

Being confined to a tiny box of perfectionism is terrible.

The Role of Grief

When I started going to therapy a few years ago, I was unprepared for the intense waves of pain and grief that tore through me. I had so much unresolved pain over my parents' divorce (that happened when I was 13) and from feeling abandoned, unloved, and unwanted by both parents.

This is the kind of stuff that will make an appearance sooner or later if you leave it unattended. Unattended baggage is a dangerous thing. Given the right conditions, unresolved feelings won't just be a whisper in your subconscious ("You're not good enough," "You're a failure" ), rather they will start screaming for attention at the top of their lungs, forcing you to either pay attention or drown them out with busyness, distraction, addiction, etc.

Dealing with unresolved grief is pretty much the opposite of fun. But the consequences of not dealing with it can be even worse.

Now that we've discussed the roles of pain, fear, and grief, I've written some questions (I like questions) about different areas in life that you may or may not have grown up in. This is not meant to shame anyone or provide some arbitrary benchmark, but instead to say, "Hey, maybe you can work on this now before it gets too gnarly."

Mentally
Do you have your own personal definition of what it means to be mentally healthy? What does unhealthy look like?
Are you challenging yourself to grow intellectually?
Do you read books / watch movies / listen to podcasts that engage you intellectually or are you numbed out most of the time on junk?

Physically
How do you take care of your body and your health?
Do you eat your vegetables?
How much sleep are you getting?
Are you comfortable with your sexuality?
Do you recognize the physical boundaries between you and others and are you able to recognize when your boundaries have been violated or when you are violating the boundaries of others?

Emotionally
How do you deal with difficult emotions like fear, anger, jealousy, envy, shame?
How do you deal with pain, disappointment, and loss?
Do you know how to grieve?
Is there room in your life for joy and gratitude?

Spiritually
Are you angry with God? Are you angry with God and avoiding the issue?
If you go to church, why? If you don't, why?
How do you connect with God?
How do you connect with others in a spiritual community?
What does unconditional love feel like?

Relationally
Do you cultivate and nurture your friendships?
How do you deal with loneliness?
Do you feel comfortable asking for help?
How's your support system?
Are you an adult or a child in your relationship with your father? Mother? Siblings? Significant other?

Financially
Do you pay your own bills?
Are you spending less than you make?
How's debt treating you?
Are you saving for retirement? (ugh)
Do you give to people, causes, organizations, stories that you care about?

Vocationally
If you hate your job, are you doing something about it?
If you're not making enough money, are you doing something about it? (like asking for a raise)
What are you good at?
Are you pursuing your dreams or someone else's?
How do you deal with failure, mistakes, setbacks?
If you have a day job, are you honoring it by showing up on time, working when you're at work, etc.?
Do you have career goals? Do you have a realistic timeline for those goals?
What do you want to be when you grow up?

Racist people don't think they're racist

I bet Donald Sterling wouldn't call himself a "racist." In fact, I'll bet you three housing discrimination lawsuits that HE is the victim in this unfortunate and regrettable situation.

When's the last time someone was accused of racism and said, "You know, you're right. I am a racist." 

No. No one considers themselves a racist just like no one considers himself/herself a "bad person." It just isn't done. 

It's like the guy I dated who called me a "bitch" and referred to other women as "bitches" but who was certainly no misogynist. 

Or the same guy who, when I called him out on his racist comments, insisted that he "didn't actually believe those things." He was merely throwing softballs at me so I could "knock them out of the park." 

That's all they were. Softballs. Racist softballs. Racist softballs thrown at my head. 

Racism. It's all just a game and somehow I'm always up at bat. Or standing at the free throw line--the outcome riding on whether or not I can make the shot. 

And there's the rub. Racist/sexist people are not even a tad bit bothered by your righteous indignation. They're not interested in your arguments. They're not interested in change or transformation or regeneration.

No. 

If they suffer, it is the world's fault. 

They are misunderstood. They are hurt. They are attacked. They are vilified. Unfairly.

All your righteous indignation does is assure other people--or maybe just yourself--that you are not racist. You are not like that. You are not Donald Sterling. 

I'm struck by the fact that: 

A: Sterling purportedly dated a woman who describes herself as racially mixed. 

B: Sterling donated a lot of money to the NAACP.

I don't find these things surprising. 

After all, isn't love often mixed with hatred, generosity with contempt, kindness with cruelty?

The Upside of Crisis

It's been a rough couple of months. You know when a situation quickly escalates from bad to The Room (except it's too immediate to even be funny yet)?

When I'm not hiding in my closet, crying, or hiding in my closet crying, I've been doing some crisis-induced thinking. Except when it feels like CRISIS and not just unfortunate-situation-I'm-trying-to-deal-with, it gets really hard to think clearly.

When I'm in fight-or-flight mode I really only want to do one of two things:

1) Run away.
2) Punch someone in the face.
3) Punch someone in the face and then run away.

Okay, that was three things, but you get the idea.

That's the downside of crisis. Calm, rational thought goes right into the proverbial whirring garbage disposal (along with, unfortunately, the ability to execute normal day-to-day functions like brainstorming my next crockpot recipe and wearing matching socks. Wait--who am I kidding. I can't even manage that on a good day).

I feel like I'm in the midst of emotional warfare, but they brought a [insert military grade weapon here] and I brought a paper clip and a stick of chewing gum (In case you were wondering, I'm losing).

Add to this the fact that my emotional reaction time is basically glacial. If you stab me repeatedly with a piece of broken glass I might say "ouch" roughly two weeks later. Imagine how long it takes me to heal. Yeah.

And just as the wound appears to be scabbing over, I get stabbed, again, by someone who keeps telling me they would rather succumb to a flesh-eating disease than hurt me. It's confusing as #$@!.

But I digress. The upside.

Recognizing that I am a human person with human limitations

Unspoken Rule #178 - Do not be weak.

Unspoken Rule #3 - Don't be a victim.

Unspoken Rule #65 - If you cry, expect to be made fun of. Oh, and if you do cry, people are secretly judging you for being overly emotional and "weak."

Unspoken Rule #82 - Never allow yourself to be dependent on someone else.

Unspoken Rule #77 - If you are dependent on someone else, they will resent you. For being weak.

Unspoken Rule #34 - Do not ask for help.

Unspoken Rule #91 - You need to figure this out on your own.

Unspoken Rule #117 - The worst thing you can do is feel sorry for yourself.

Learning the signs of "I'm not okay"

I feel like this must be easier for other people. Maybe not. It takes me days (it feels like) to even realize that I'm upset. I analyze and compartmentalize my emotions as if they are completely separate from me, kind of like other people might organize their DVD collection by genre, director or year of release.

"I'm filing all my Wes Anderson movies under M for 'melancholy.'"

Acknowledging some hard-to-accept truths about myself

Hard Truth #35 - I don't have a ton of automatic respect for authority, power, position, or the status quo.

Hard Truth #21 - I have a near-crippling fear of disapproval from authority figures.

Hard Truth #88 - I think I'm better than the rules. See also Hard Truth #35 & Hard Truth #21. See also, COMPLETELY SCREWED.

Hard Truth #103 - Subverting the system makes me gleeful and somewhat smug. [Thanks a lot, Dad.]

Hard Truth #999 - I ride my bike to work, drink fruit-oatmeal-spinach-flaxseed smoothies, and attend the occasional yoga class. Yes, I have become THAT person.

I have really awesome friends

They would be awesome even if I wasn't going through a crisis or CRISIS. Thanks you guys. It is because of you that I have yet to either run away or punch someone in the face or both.

I'm going to get through this.

Bullshit

Everyone has it. Everyone knows what it is.

The telltale sign that something coming out of someone else's mouth is complete mierda?

Your eyes start to glaze over. You resist the urge to roll them. You carefully control the corners of your mouth.

"Uh huh."

It's a lot like BO--we're so good at discerning other people's stench and so bad at recognizing our own.

You know what I want to call bullshit on?

"Everyone wants someone who will call them on their bullshit."

There's no way that can be true. Maybe on a micro-level. Like, "Hey, as far as I can tell, you're not going to Coachella for the music" or "I'm pretty sure you fake laughed at your girlfriend's joke."

No one wants to get called out on the big stuff.

"Hey bro, you continually take on projects that you have no chance of completing so that you can avoid your own persistent sense of failure."

"You constantly talk about how 'hot' you are, but at your core you feel unlovely and unloveable."

"You complain about how stressful your job is, but secretly you get off on it."

"You find it so easy to criticize other people's efforts, but you can't even attempt work of your own."

You wanna know what goes hand-in-hand with bullshit (no, not rhetorical questions)?

Self-deception.

We all do it. I'm pretty sure we even need a certain dose of it just to survive. The truth, it burns. Self-deception, it goes without saying, preempts growth. It also keeps us safe.

I know I don't want to be called out on my bullshit. It's too painful.

Unfortunately, your bullshit is not just your own. It affects the people around you. Sorry to break it to you, but your bullshit is hurting other people.

Your bullshit is hurting me. It's hurting you too. I want better for you.

And I know, it's probably rooted in deep insecurity, possibly even self-loathing, and you're not even aware that you're doing it.

[Indirect putdowns are the worst.]

And my bullshit is hurting other people. I'm sorry. And I'm working on it.

Rape and the Art of Storytelling

So, I was watching a video at church the other day, and the subject turned to rape. Specifically, the man and woman being interviewed knew both the victim and the perpetrator before the rape happened. 

And the man in the video said, and I paraphrase: "As much as I wanted to hate him [the perpetrator], I couldn't, insofar as his life would also never be the same." 

This is about rape. And the stories we tell:

[Insert name here] had such a promising future as a [football star - leader - contributing member of society]. But then he raped someone. And now his life will never be the same. 

Or, “These boys have to live with this the rest of their lives."

See also, Steubenville.

This story has been told before. It will be told again. 

The story follows a simple before and after structure: 

Before raping someone: Promising future

After raping someone: Life never the same

Given how many different narratives we could impose on rape, why is this narrative so pervasive? 

I don't know. 

Logically, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense, and it tends to elide or gloss over the very crux of the story: 

[Perpetrator] raped [victim]

The before/after narrative conceals the key cause/effect relationship in the story: 

Cause: Committed rape

Effect: Life never the same

This has the odd effect of conflating raping with being raped, as in "his life would also never be the same."

"I was raped": my life will never be the same. 

"I raped someone": my life will never be the same. 

I would argue that this is a false equivalence. Raping and being raped are not the same thing. The promising-future/life-never-the-same narrative obscures, almost denies, the key difference between raping and being raped: 

Choice. Volition. Will. 

If we take that away, we are left with a rapist who rapes through no active choice of his own. Rape is something that "just happens" to young men with promising futures, like a cholera outbreak or a really bad blind date.

To return to the first story: At what point in time was the perpetrator's life never the same--was it the moment when he decided to rape someone? During? Immediately after? When he was arrested? The first time he appeared in court? 

And the boys from Steubenville, at what point in time were their lives changed forever--after texting an incriminating picture to friends? Before the party was over? Upon conviction and sentencing? 

I would argue that the timeline is false, the before/after formula invalid. 

In any way that really matters, if you rape someone--if you are the kind of person who would rape someone--your life is already f----.

Ironically (or logically), narratives about rape victims tend to give them a great deal of the very quality rapists are denied--

She chose to wear that, she was sexually active, she willfully tweeted that alluring image. 

Cause. Effect. [You can also substitute CHOICE and CONSEQUENCE]

Cause: Wearing a mini-skirt

Effect: Being raped. 

Or,

Cause: Walking alone at night in a bad part of town.

Effect: Being raped. 

Or, 

Cause: Getting drunk at a party.

Effect: Being raped. 

Or, 

Cause: Being overtly sexual. Flirting.

Effect: Being raped. 

I could go on, unfortunately.

We impose the cause/effect story on rape victims while simultaneously bewailing the before/after tragedy of rapists. 

Seems a bit backwards to me.