It’s a dangerous thing sometimes to be left alone with your own thoughts. That’s the position I found myself in late on Sunday night/Monday morning driving home from my friend’s housewarming. I had just left a fun and much-needed night with friends, some I had not seen in many weeks. I had the chance to escape the everythingness of my life–the worries, the anxiety, the upcoming move, the barely-there bank account, the non-stop thinking. But, then I found myself back in the driver’s seat with an hour-long trip ahead. I tried cranking up Beyoncé in a futile effort to drown out my many musings, but there were not enough beats to crush what was on my mind.
I’ve written about my ongoing quarter-life crisis in jest because it really does strike me as melodramatic and unnecessary to have a crisis at (almost) age 25. The world does a good job reminding twenty-somethings that we’re sometimes entitled and way too cemented in our own self-imposed histrionics. Because of the unavoidable popularity of television shows such as Girls and websites such as Thought Catalog, the microscope is now fully focused on twenty-somethings, ready to expose us for the breathing bacteria we truly are.
So, it’s somewhat difficult to take myself seriously when I type a blog post title called, “When It All Seems Impossible.” Come on, Tyece, you are twentyfuckingfour. Nothing is impossible. The world is your oyster and you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You’re doing great, kid!
Except, it really all does seem impossible. I could pretend I’m above my generation’s bullshit and shrug off the minuscule anxieties biting away at my confidence, but I am not capable of such. I am at that strange, inevitable spot where everything is OK but it is not quite good. Things could be better and they could be worse. And, as much as it embarrasses me to admit, there are times when I mistakenly assume it would all be easier if I had that partner-in-crime.
I am at that point where I’ve become all-too-aware of the world around me and the injustices, disparities and sheer ugliness that world constructs each day. I’m now old enough to have been on the receiving end of some of those injustices. Some of those disparities. Some of that sheer ugliness. Those injustices, those disparities, that sheer ugliness remind me that sometimes the world does everything in its power to truly make it all impossible.
I’ve finally decided to pop my head up and notice some people living a life I do not want. For better or worse, I am the product of a generation that wants creative and personal fulfillment at the helm of all we do. I could settle for being happy because I am surviving, but this is my life, not an award-winning CBS television show. I want more and I am tired of feeling guilty for that. I have also done myself an injustice by popping my head up a little too much and focusing on the life others have that I think I want. I’ve got this vague and smeared idea of what I want out of this life and no clue what’s the next step to getting there. So, it all seems impossible. It all seems too grand, too unachievable, too far away.
When it all seems impossible, I rub my temples. I stop typing. I look at the screen and the cursor blinks back at me, demanding that even if it all seems impossible, that blog post still deserves to be written. I turn on Leela James’ rendition of “A Change Is Gonna Come” and let myself melt in the lyrics that are too lofty and yet perfect for how I feel at this moment.
When it all seems impossible I remember the pit of 2011 and how I never thought I would become a well-adjusted adult in the face of unforeseen adversity and damage. I remember the nights spent slumped over on my studio floor, curled into an inconsolable ball of grief and pain. I remember a time when it all seemed impossible, and somehow, it was not. Somehow I made it through.
When it all seems impossible, I remember the practical advice of my blog fairy godmother Maya Francis to make lists each day, to crack away at my ambitions bit by bit.
When it all seems impossible, I remember the timeless advice of my other blog fairy godmother Bené Viera to just keep writing.
When it all seems impossible, I remember life BC-before business cards. I remember when Twenties Unscripted received 20 hits a day. I remember when I had no idea what Google Analytics was.
When it all seems impossible, I remember that there is promise in the overwhelming impossibility of it all. I remember that without it all seeming impossible, it does not give us something to work toward to prove just how possible it really is. I remember the many, many times it all felt impossible. Then I take a look at my life, at the people in it, at the experiences I have been fortunate enough to have. I look at these things I’ve built, the relationships I’ve developed, the friends I’ve made, the family that supports me. I look at the hurdles I’ve jumped through and the bridges I’ve crossed over. I look at this blessed and beautiful existence I have. I look at this lucky ass life. I take a look at those things and they all serve as a testament to the overwhelming possibility of it all.