Quarter-life Crisis?

Guest Written by:  Lindsay Love

So I just turned 27, at least a quarter of my life is now behind me. The sun has set on my childhood, my formative years, and sadly, my opportunity to use youthful naivety as an excuse for my follies and shortcomings. Am I experiencing an existential dilemma? Am I staring wide-eyed at a crossroads in my life’s journey? Well… no, I don’t think so, but I will let you know for sure as soon as I find some time to think about it. Right now, I am too busy finishing my Bachelor’s degree, working full-time, and most importantly, raising a 5-year-old little girl.

I’m in the 10-year-B.A. program. What, they don’t have that at your school? It is structured around the rule of twos. Allow me to elaborate; all you do is take classes fulltime for two years, then take two years off for an unplanned pregnancy, followed by taking two classes per semester for the rest of your life.

Now that I am in constant struggle to squeeze in a little studying during naptimes, weekends, and Sponge-Bob Squarepants marathons, I can look back fondly on my first attempt at higher education. To think I never appreciated the days when my only distractions from homework were dorm neighbors blaring Rage Against the Machine and skateboarding raucously in the courtyard outside my door. Boy, those were the days. No kids, no job, no supervision, is it any wonder I filled my days with the pursuit of intoxication, a bit of whoring around, and generalized loafing? Thank God I gave birth to my daughter when I did. Finally, I had someone to force me to act like an adult, to get my proverbial shit together.

Nowadays, I put so much energy into rearing a well-adjusted citizen that it is rather inconsequential that I am not even sure I have achieved that status myself. Everyday is so full of activities and responsibilities that it’s almost out of necessity that I live my life like a recovering alcoholic: one day at a time. I promise I’ll work on my 5 year plan soon, but right now I just have to cook a nutritious dinner, start a load of laundry, and untangle a Slinky for the fortieth-insert an expletive-time. Then, before I know it, it’s time to perform my little one’s highly-involved bedtime routine. I’ll spare you details; it’s boring even for me. But finally, after one hug, two kisses, and if and only if all of her stuffed animals are properly aligned on the side of the bed, I tuck her in, shut the door and take a deep breath. Some days I am at peace, but other days I think “Phew, thank God that is over!”

Those “other days” are a fine example of why I need to work on my Zen parenting skills. I really strive to live in the now. I tell myself there is no “after the bedtime routine.” I have to live in the moment; embrace the hair-brushing. But there are times, when my patience is on E, running on fumes if you will, and I cannot embrace the hair brushing. Then there are even uglier times when I am so far gone that I catch myself brushing my daughter’s hair so violently that it may actually be considered a form of child abuse. I despise those times, when I wear my stress like a backpack full of cannon balls that drags me down into a baser life-form. After much self-loathing, I apologize profusely for being such a wretch of a mother to this most tender child who loves so unconditionally. I promise myself to try harder tomorrow to be the patient, present mother that I really want to be.

As I typed that last sentence, I had an epiphany. I just realized why I am not having a quarter-life crisis. It’s not that I haven’t had the time; it’s that I haven’t had the need. While most people my age are wondering which career, or location, or creative endeavor, or relationship will fulfill their life’s purpose, I already know that my life’s purpose is sitting in the next room and she’s been amusing herself for the last hour with 3 markers and a cardboard box. I know that the reason I have to finish my degree is not to have a better career, but to set an example for my daughter, because I want her to go to college and to finish, no matter how long it takes. I want to be a better person so that I can be a better mother because my daughter deserves that and so much more, because I love her the way only a mother can, with the most ferocious kind of love that fills your heart so completely that it could almost burst into a million glittering pieces.