In my final year of college, I managed to secure a job before graduation, outperforming my Gen-X peers. I worked part-time at an advertising agency until I received my degree and then transitioned to a full-time role, crafting radio and TV advertisements for small businesses nationwide. It felt like a significant achievement.
I was earning a modest salary while enjoying the luxury of my own office space to create copy. My boss would occasionally bring in drinks, despite my underage status. Each time we landed a new client, the staff received crisp $100 bills. My efforts seemed to be paying off, and I believed I was living the so-called American Dream. All my meticulous planning and hard work appeared to be fruitful, allowing me to check off a major milestone on my life’s to-do list.
However, what initially seemed like a dream job turned into a nightmare. After enduring two years of harassment, condescending remarks, and distressing business trips filled with inappropriate behavior, I found myself in the emergency room with dangerously high blood pressure. Instead of addressing the job’s stress, the doctor advised me to stop my birth control and “relax.” Being a diligent rule-follower, I complied—and soon discovered I was pregnant.
Suddenly, I was navigating a toxic work environment with “health insurance” that didn’t cover pregnancy, a car that was completely unsuitable for a child, and a newlywed husband who was just as bewildered as I was. In hindsight, my quest for the American Dream felt rushed. Why did I feel the need to graduate, enter the workforce, marry, and start a family before I even turned 25? Why was I so focused on ticking items off my life’s checklist?
While I still can’t pinpoint the exact reasons, I recognize that I was a planner, someone who preferred to understand what lay ahead. Unexpectedly being pregnant and married at 23 was not part of my plan, but I pushed through. After several challenging weeks filled with nausea and fatigue, I began to accept my pregnancy while attempting to ignore my dreadful job. I tried to convince my husband that everything would be okay—that we would be the couple who had kids early and retired young, enjoying empty nest adventures in our forties.
Then, I suffered a miscarriage. The unforeseen turn of events shattered my carefully constructed forecast. The job continued to deteriorate as my boss shifted our focus to writing ads for an anti-gay marriage proposition. At that moment, something within me snapped. After a lifetime of following rules and making plans, I found myself staring into my teal iMac, questioning why I was even in that office. Why was I compromising my values at such a young age?
I closed my office door and impulsively called the first airline that came to mind, using my emergency credit card to book a flight to Hawaii. After a moment of reflection, I remembered my marriage and purchased a ticket for my husband as well. We didn’t have the financial means for such an expense, and I was aware that we wouldn’t be able to repay the debt, but I felt an urgent need to escape. I had lost sight of my future plans and only knew that I needed to get away.
Driving home with the top down in my impractical convertible, I played Tom Petty’s “Free Fallin’” on the radio. In the midst of what I now recognize as an epic nervous breakdown, I felt liberated. Upon arriving home, I started packing and informed my husband of my decision to quit my job and travel to Hawaii. Thankfully, he didn’t react negatively or question the cost of the tickets. He simply packed his own bag.
Ultimately, I spent nearly a month in Hawaii, staying with my father who graciously gave me space. My husband had to return to work, leaving me alone to indulge in fast food, binge-watch Law & Order reruns, and reflect on my life. I often found myself gazing into the horizon, feeling like a character caught at the bottom of a pool.
That month-long escape was an extravagance we could hardly afford, and it certainly wasn’t part of any budget or plan. Yet, in hindsight, it may have saved my life.
Fifteen years later, I have faced even tougher challenges, but I’ve lost the youthful recklessness that once permitted such impulsive decisions. Now, as a parent of three, I understand the complexities of making decisions that impact others. I often ponder what it would be like to act on that whim again—packing a bag, heading to the airport, and purchasing a ticket to a distant beach. The flexibility to be that selfish has vanished. I am now a grown-up.
Nevertheless, I frequently reflect on what that month taught me—the luxury of youth, the freedom to make mistakes, and the space to learn and grow. I miss the indulgence of youthful selfishness, the ability to err and then have years to correct those mistakes. Yet, I recognize that coming to terms with the unpredictability of life is a privilege in itself. You don’t necessarily need a beach to realize this truth, though some days, it would certainly be nice.
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Summary
This reflection on youth emphasizes the challenges and impulsive decisions made during a tumultuous time in life. It highlights the journey from youthful recklessness to adult responsibilities, contemplating the freedom of making mistakes and the lessons learned along the way.