WHERE ARE ALL MY FRIENDS?!
I experienced my mid-midlife crisis at the ripe age of 29. Like, legit when I turned 29, on the night of my very blurry birthday in DC. That eve was just shy of a shit show, and by just shy of a shit show I mean ‘twas a glorious show of shit. As in, fantastic content for an Upright Citizens Brigade 20 minute sketch (in front of a packed house of 100 people) where I was pulled on stage to have that horrible (but extremely hilarious, in retrospect) night reenacted by a group of improv actors while I was visiting my sister in LA for my 30th birthday festivities. Was I embarrassed? I mean yea duh kind of, but I looked at my honorable bravery to get on stage for the specific purpose of having others laugh at my expense as a way to pay my sister back for scaring the shit out of her that infamous evening- um, morning.
We’re even now, right?
*crickets*
Thankfully, luckily, fortunately, no Niloo was harmed in the making of that 29th birthday. I came out of it unscathed- except for maybe my dignity, credibility as an ‘adult’, and definitely my mascara.
All I will say about that night, for now at least, is that it could have been WAY worse if it weren’t for:
My sister Naz, who was across the country in LA at the time, answering my call at 5 am, from a random phone number, and subsequently organizing & executing my rescue mission, and
The random dude outside of the club that first let me use his phone to call Naz (from which I also dropped a pin of my location, not sure how my brain was able to come up with that idea but I digress…) and then proceeded to not murder me and chop my body up into tiny little pieces. Thanks, dude, you da breast!
After that debacle, I knew things had to change. I was unhappy. I continued to be in a toxic, unhealthy relationship that I knew was not meant for me. I was hitting the sauce a little too hard because I was under the illusion that it made things better for a bit- obvs it does not. And just to top it all off, I finally acknowledged that I wasn’t where I wanted to be career wise… as in “Oh fuck, I’m pretty sure I’m in the wrong career.” But I digress… again. Remember how I said I do that a lot? I’ll just say “BID” going forward.
Fast-forward one year, nearing my 30th birthday, when shit really started to get real. I realized that I had caught an extremely overpowering, all consuming, incurable bug. The TRAVEL BUG. (Yes, I am corny and punny and love dad jokes so much. I’m not embarrassing, you’re embarrassing). I already knew I loved traveling & seeing different parts of the world, however near or far (wherEEEEEVVVERRRR you are- Celine Dion, no?) to DC they were, but I was ready for more. More than just a week here, a week there, crammed between month-end/quarter-end/year-end close (super cool accounting lingo for closing out the books) and life’s many other stressors and commitments. I wanted to do something bigger than just vacation.
I wanted to immerse myself in a new place. To feel the energy & culture of different towns; to chat with locals and learn a bunch of new things about the world and ultimately, myself. All of the Instagram accounts I follow are travel, health & wellness, or fitness accounts. Accounts that motivate me to be better physically, mentally, emotionally; that light a fire under my ass and push me towards actually living my #lifegoals. Because I want to be my best, happiest, healthiest self (I see you rolling your eyes over there, but whatevs it’s the truth). I follow people who inspire me to do/eat/exercise/preach/travel the way I strive to. I am constantly scrolling through different locations that I find in posts and use that as the baseline for my research on where I want to go and what I want to see. The list is super long, and is always growing… but something clicked for me last year. Something that said “stop being jello or wishing you could do that thing or finding all the reasons why you cannot do that; EFFING START DOING THAT THING!” Stop not doing things because you’re scared of what may or may not happen, because the only thing you will ever truly regret is regret itself. I very quickly began to feel this intense sense of urgency; the fire was burning hard under dat ass. I was 30 and single. No rent, no debts, no babies, no pets (I didn’t mean to rhyme but I do it from time to time… ok I’ll stop) and I had some money saved up… if ever there was a time to start doing the things, it was now. DO IT NOW NILS.
So I decided to:
Not renew my lease that would be up in a few months
Move back to my parents’ house to save some $$
Quit my almost 6-year-gig at a company I loved so that I could finally TRAVEL and experience more of the world, and
Do it with a confidence that I hadn’t had before- this thing within me that told me everything would (eventually) be alright- nay, GREAT- If I just took the leap
So I told my parents my plan, and they were super supportive and encouraging and… SIKE just kidding, this isn’t my Academy Award acceptance speech. They freaked out and told me to really think about things, not to make any drastic decisions, not to give up my paycheck & health insurance… but what they weren’t understanding is that this was not a rash decision, I’d been thinking (really, dreaming) about making serious life moves for YEARS. Even if I wasn’t aware of it, this feeling had been festering inside of me for a miiiiinute (not a literal minute, but a miiiiiiinute as we millennials say to describe a substantial period of time, BID).
I had been too scared to rock the boat, too scared of change, and most importantly, too scared of the F word. No not that F word, I love that F word. I use that F word a lot (sorry mom & dad)… I’m talking about FAILURE. What if I quit and then regret it, or can’t find work ever again… What if I do this big thing and I’m still unhappy? What if my future husband and I are supposed to meet at (insert one of the many douchey bars in Arlington or DC here) one Friday night, but I’m off gallivanting in Europe so some basic ass chick scoops him up instead? Yea I know, how silly is that?! Basically, I thought of every single reason NOT to do it for months- until I finally figured out that the only thing I would ever regret was not doing anything at all.
And so that was that. It was decided…