Well, I Guess I'm 23

What the hell do I do now?

One year ago today, on my 22nd birthday, I started the not j*ss newsletter.

I don’t think I fully had a grasp of what I was getting myself into. I mean, of course I knew what I was doing in a literal sense. I was giving a platform to my writing, really for the first time ever. As prepared as I thought I was, I never considered the weight of it all. The fact that nobody has ever read my work before, especially on such a scale. Thousands of people would be perceiving my work. Even if they don’t actually read it, it’s a bizarre new step, no matter your skill level. I knew how to write, or at the very least I knew how to type words into a document, but I’ve never had to consider certain things. Editing, for example. I didn’t pay mind to certain punctuation or typos. I never really considered editing as part of my process. That sounds very silly, but I really just took confidence that I knew how to write and jumped right into this new terrain with no real experience under my belt. I just had to trust that my audience would support it, even with wavering quality.

A lot of my early comments were filled with, “this is just like reading your tweets, but in long form!” or something of that sentiment. Don’t get me wrong, at the time I thought that was the highest of praise. I loved hearing that! My mission was to be an easily accessible way for my followers to be able to read my inner thoughts and for me to elaborate upon things I couldn’t fully discuss with a character limit. I wanted it to serve as a one sided group chat, from me to all of my followers. I do still wish to keep my “author’s voice” consistent, but I don’t think that was a good goal to aim for. I shouldn’t have wanted this newsletter to read as though I am just typing my literal Twitter drafts into Substack. I can’t read my issues from last year anymore because I feel as though I didn’t put enough thought or care into them. I know I did, I know at the time I was delivering to the best of my capabilities. They just read as so lazily put together now in a way I have tried to avoid since. Does it show? I couldn’t tell you.

I’ve said this before, but I know my writing still has plenty of room for improvement. I could look back at something I finished writing just last week and not even recognize myself in it anymore. I can say, with confidence, that I’m not the best writer I will ever be right now, nor should I be. I’m still just trying to find my voice. It’s a never-ending, ever-evolving process for me.

On one of the last days of 2022, I published an issue titled The Last Three Years. It’s the most personal I’ve gotten on the internet. The piece wasn’t exactly about positive experiences, but I did end it on an optimistic note. If you remember I said something along the lines of, “well, 22 sure wasn’t my year, but I have power over my own life, and I refuse to let 23 be a bad year!” I have turned 23 today, and… well, shit! This year sure has been off to a rough start! Don’t worry, I won’t be getting overly personal with you again. I’d rather die, and I mean that! I just want to reflect as I reach into a new age. I don’t want my last three months of 22 to be what defines my 23.

As much as there may be aspects of my life I want to change, the universe has been throwing things in my path at full speed so often that I struggle to regain my balance. Things that aren’t servicing me in any way. Obstacles rather than stepping stones. It’s hard to even exist sometimes. I admit that if I got into detail about anything I’ve been through in the last three months, it would all seem very privileged of me to even complain about. Trust me, I don’t think my year has been any harder than anybody else’s. It’s just living in my head that can be so overwhelming.

I can’t let things go. I have this thing where if I fixate on something, I will spiral out of control thinking about it. If I leave the house and start driving away, I will think about whether I turned the stove off, or if I left the heater on and the wiring might burst. What if one small thing could ignite my entire house into flames and I’m not around to somehow prevent it? I’m sure this sounds normal. Obviously I’m not the first person to second guess if they forgot to turn the stove off. The difference is my brain hyperfixates on it, and it doesn’t stop. I spiral out of control to the point it triggers an anxiety attack, and sometimes I am unable to bring myself back down to reality. I’ve had it under control for a while, but as so much has become unstable in the past 3 months, the new-found anxiety that got triggered inside of me has been draining. I can’t even clear my head for two minutes.

A fact I’ve recently come to realize is I have a great fear of aging. I’m not talking about aging in appearance, though … that, too. I know this seems melodramatic considering I’m just turning 23, but I’ve become intensely aware of the passage of time happening around me. I’ll never be 22 again. There’s something about that I truly struggle grasping. Honestly, I never thought I’d live this long. I never saw this far ahead, I never considered this as a real thing. I think the hardest part of the passage of time is the inevitability of having nobody else to rely on. Having to campaign for myself, having to fend for myself. I had to learn the hard way that nobody will always be in my corner besides myself. As established, trusting myself can be difficult while I’m living in my head.

I’m about to lose a lot of you, but I beg of you to just let me be corny for just a line or two. Taylor Swift has a song called You’re On Your Own Kid. I know. It really comforts me when my mind is at war with myself. I’m literally those “who needs therapy when you have Taylor Swift’s discography?” memes. But, in all seriousness, the lines -

“There were pages turned with the bridges burn, everything you lose is a step you take.”

//

“You're on your own, kid. You can face this. You're on your own, kid, you always have been.”

Have offered me such comfort and reassurance in the past few months, as superficial as that may seem. The track just came into my life at the right time, with my anxiety re-peaking. I know how it sounds to some of you. A Taylor Swift song being what helps my mental health? Really? But when I heard “Everything you lose is a step you take” on the album, I just couldn’t help but insert myself into the narrative of the song. Ending the track with “you can face this. You’re on your own, kid, you always have been.” It really felt as though she was singing me through such a turning point in my life.

Will I always be able to rely on myself? Probably not! But I have to find peace with that, because, inevitably, I’m the only person who can live my life to my own best interests. The past few years have been comprised of me, time and time again, trusting people that end up hurting me or opening up to people who would soon leave me. I know that shouldn’t keep me from opening up and trusting more people in the future, but loss does come with lessons. The lessons in question? You have to decide for yourself. Honestly, I’m still searching for lessons myself. If 23 can give me any clarity, I hope that I can learn to trust myself. I want the landscape of my life to change and for me to move forward with it. I hope I’ll be able to do that, and that by 24 I will have learned things about myself for my journey forward. I hope I can learn to embrace what has scared me in the past, to prepare me for what’s to come in the future.