The Invisible Line That Divides America

Tomorrow is the day we are supposed to come together as a country and celebrate all that is good about America: the freedom of just about everything, the pursuit of happiness, an end to taxation without representation, and of course, bottle rockets and barbecue.

America is already pretty great, if you ask me, and has been for a long time. But I'm not foolish enough to actually believe it is, or ever has been, The Greatest Nation on Earth. To the contrary, I am a Millennial, a recent college graduate, and a Midwesterner. So trust me when I say, I know firsthand that things could be a lot better than they are.

With the spirit of evolution and progress in mind, I would like to discuss a topic that has been weighing heavy on my mind in recent weeks. There is an invisible line that runs right down the middle of our society, which separates one group of people from another, and which influences almost everything it touches for better or worse, depending on one's location relevant to this line. Now, I could be talking about any number of imaginary classifications we humans place on one another, so I'll spare you the guessing game. The issue to which I am referring is none other than: poverty.

I've always been aware of poverty, even before I knew there was a name for it, I guess. That fact alone should tell you whereabouts it is that I stand in relation to that imaginary line. If privilege is defined as not having to think about someone else's problem, then I guess you can say this is one category in which I don't consider myself to be very privileged.

I've been poor my whole life. My parents were poor before I was born. They were poor while they were married, and they became even more poor after they got divorced. I may not have known the definition of the term when I was six years old, but I did know that we shopped at the Goodwill and paid for my school lunches one week at a time. Perhaps more influential than what I did know, were the things I did not know. I remember going to the mall for the first time with an aunt and uncle when I was 11 years old and buying a yellow skirt from Old Navy for $20 that I thought was the height of luxury.

It was not until much later in my life, when my path crossed with those who came from more money than I, that I realized the experiences which were omnipresent in their lives -- going on vacations, buying family cars brand new, and making trips to the mall every week -- were the very experiences lacking in my own. I never knew any better. That's most certainly not to say that I was not entirely content with my childhood, reading Harry Potter books in my bedroom and using my imagination for fun, while others traveled around the country in Hollister brand clothing with their married parents and lived in middle class, double-income households with two bathrooms. What's more, I never felt bad about it for a minute, because nobody ever pointed it out to me. Until they did. Kids can be so mean to other kids.

Skip forward to now, and I'd say I turned out pretty okay, all things considered. I found a way to pay for four years of college and I graduated with that coveted degree. Of all the things wrong with me, I wouldn't blame a single one of them on my hand-me-down clothes or my name appearing on the free and reduced lunch roster. In fact, I'm quite proud to say that my family was poor, and that I went without many luxuries that my classmates took for granted as a child. I don't hesitate to see the facts through this perspective, because I know that life shapes you through experience, and I honestly believe those experiences gave me an understanding of the world that those without it, know not.

Because I know what it feels like to struggle, to go without, or to simply do the best you can, I have a greater appreciation for others who are doing the same, and I do not find myself imposing an impossible expectation of perfection on any aspect of life. Inadvertently, perhaps, my parents taught me one of the greatest lessons of my life: how to graciously accept a respectable effort in place of demanding an impeccable performance; and moreover, how to humbly make up the difference between the two.

You're probably wondering why these thoughts have been swirling around in my head, seemingly unannounced. They aren't. Nothing in life is ever unannounced. The thoughts have been brewing in my brain recently because of the increasing number of interactions I have had recently with some of those whose position lies on the other side of that invisible line.

Forget about ZIP codes. We live on two totally different planets. Everything we buy is in a totally different segment of the market: vehicles, housing, clothing, technology, groceries. A lifetime of my mother's frustrating frugality has instilled in me the ability to see the value of almost anything. The relatively short-term profit margins reaped by those on the other side have sufficed to reveal to them simply the price of everything. For those who are accustomed to having everything, nothing will ever be of high enough quality to quench their lavish, insatiable thirst. But for those who do not, and have never, had the means to demand such ostentatious superfluity, "good enough" has always been just that: good enough.

Don't misinterpret my words: I do not think that one side of this societal divide is any more morally superior to its counterpart. I do, however, hold personal experiences and lessons in much more esteem than the number of zeroes found at the end of the balance of any checking account. Most importantly, though, I'd like to pose a question to society as a whole, because I think finding answers is a much more worthwhile endeavor than simply pitting two groups of people against one another (I'm looking at you here, media). My question is this: How do we solve it? How do we address this issue of gross income inequality, which leads in turn to wealth inequality? How do we work together to fix this, as a team and a society, who share a common thread of humanity and compassion for all? What can be done?

Well, to arrive at an answer for that question, I think it is absolutely imperative that we examine our history. How did we get to this point, where the rich get richer and the poor get poorer? What values are we reflecting in the status quo which reinforce these systems of oppression for those on the poor side of the line, to stifle their success, or even worse, to contribute to their continued poverty? Why is it that so many people on the wealthy side seem to cease caring about those on the poor side, once they've jumped the hurdle themselves? But most simply, how can we help each side to truly see the perspective of the other? We have got to come up with a way for us to walk a mile in someone else's shoes; or as social justice legend Atticus Finch would say, to put on somebody else's skin and walk around in it. And all of this comes from love.

In many cases, poverty is a function of circumstance: who you are, where and when you are born, the color of your skin, the language of your tongue, the quality of your education, and the motivation for your actions. But because all of these characteristics illicit so much hate and anger in people, as they fear anything that is unfamiliar to themselves, there is no longer any space within their bitter hearts where love can find room to reside. Compassion and a desire to understand one another and the endless ways in which poverty, or a lack thereof, affects their day-to-day life, must originate from love. Hence, the cure to the negative societal implications of poverty is love.

I'm not saying the cure to poverty itself is love. Love does not pay the bills. But that's a bigger issue for a longer discussion on another day. So for the time being, I can only offer this simple solution to a single symptom of a sick system: Feeling compassion for one another from the other side of the fence simply requires that we see ourselves in each other first, because then we can act from a place of compassion and love. The root of the disparity between the homeless person sleeping on the street and the millionaire sleeping in a mansion has much more to do with their hearts than their pockets, and each one of us as society has a part to play in mending this divide.

Life: Equal and Opposite

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Anyone who has ever taken a physical science class knows this to be true (theoretically, at least). Based on my own empirical evidence, I would say it's true about life, too.

I have come to learn that for every positive emotion and experience we are lucky enough to uncover, we too, must deal with heartbreak and sorrow in some form. And vice versa. The Buddhists call it Samsara, as I remember learning about in high school so long ago. It essentially means that in life, we will all experience ups and downs as we go along. And that's unfortunate, but also... fortunate. It is paradoxical by its very nature, as is life itself. Nothing can be done to change it. It can only be accepted.

We cannot live and fully experience life without undergoing profound grief and loss, precisely as we cannot live and fully experience life without feeling extreme joy and euphoria. The good and the bad must go together in equal and opposite amounts, in order for the Universe to achieve natural balance. Nothing exists without its opposite, and everything in the whole of the Universe is interconnected. Therefore, when something is tugged, another thing must give. When one thing gives, it is because another has been tugged. This means that when something is lost, something else stands to be gained.

Or at least that's what I have chosen to believe, so that I may articulate and explain to myself the human condition and all that it contains. We may not experience so much of one while never being touched equally by the other. Otherwise we would cease to understand the spectrum of humanity as we do.

Logically, then, that is why we must feel such pain in our hearts at times in our lives. We must experience loss and heartbreak, in order that we may better understand and appreciate presence and love. We must become attached so that we may eventually suffer, and so that our eyes may learn how to see beauty in strife. All of our experiences culminate in our becoming exactly who and what we were destined to be, contributing to the Universe in precisely the way we were intended to do. This must include the good with the bad.

No person is complete and fully formed -- ever. We all continue to learn and grow and change and teach those around us in every moment of our lives. But it would be amiss to assume that we could ever get near such completeness without a scar of pain running through us, constantly reminding us of the immense clarity it brought to our lives. Our pain makes us human, equally as much as does our love. One cannot exist without the other.

The more open we are to receiving kindness and love, the more vulnerable we become to being caused distress and pain -- each to precisely the same degree as the other. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Therefore, to love greatly means to lose greatly. And both mean to be transformed by experience. If love has the potential to cleanse our souls and show us beauty, then pain has equally as much ability to break our hearts and bend our spirits; the both of them working together in unison to deliver us understanding which catapults us to twice the level of being as we were before.

But how grossly negligent it would be to live a life void of pain, and therefore, void of love, in order to feel very little at all. What an insult to the opportunity the Universe has handed us -- us, the very mass of cells which combined in precisely the way it did, to make us exactly the way we are -- on this planet, in this world, with these people, at this moment in time.

The Universe has lent us a window of time, and we may choose to do with it what we please, be it playing it safe and guarding our hearts, or risking it all and feeling as much as we possibly can -- positive and not. To feel means to feel it all. Do not smite the Universe or squander the privilege it has granted you. Once the Universe has closed our window, our chance of feeling anything will be permanently gone.

Even after such pain has stricken our hearts, and so many tears have left our eyes, we remain with memories in the back of our minds and at the bottom of our hearts, which we may choose to recall at any moment for the rest of our lives. Our experiences have left us with unique scars which did not exist before, and which will accompany us forevermore. And sure, all that it would take in order to feel the pain, is to remember the scar and how we earned it. But that's true for gazing fondly upon the happiness it taught us, too.

It is imperative that we understand one cannot exist without the other. Life seeks balance. Attachment will always mean suffering, but it will also always mean the purest of joy up until the very moment when suffering arrives. And the beautiful combination of the two is what makes our experience in this Universe meaningful and unique. It would be wise to cherish them both, and to see the love which came along with the pain, while we can. After all, we, like all things, are only ever intended to exist like this, for a moment in all of the vastness of time. Eventually, we too, will change and be gone, transformed into some other capacity, equal in energy, but opposite in form, in order to give back to the Universe everything that we have been given during our time in this life.

What's In An Accent?

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A story

A journey

A struggle

A triumph

Ambition

Perserverence

Discipline

Bravery

Hard work

Relentlessness

Desire

Commitment

Allure

Fascination

Intrigue

Curiosity

Patience

Frustration

Questions

Acceptance

Hard Rs

Soft Hs

Impossible vowels

Inconceivable combinations

An accent is not a failure to speak another language

It is a deeper understanding of your own

A resilient effort to reconfigure your speech pattern

And realign the world view you've always known

It takes guts and courage

And you'll still mess it up

But damn it you're trying

And that's more than enough

Language is understanding

Rules of grammar don't apply

Communication is universal

Just do your best to get by

Every voice comes from

Somewhere else on the map

Every person has a story

From somewhere besides where they're at

Reactions to accents

Beauty or fear

The choices we have

When one lands on our ear

We all speak different

And that's just a plain fact

But our hearts beat the same

No division in that

Personal Questions: A Long Distance Relationship Is Still A Relationship!

"A long distance relationship? Oh, that must be hard."
"When is the next time you'll get to see him?"
"What is the next step in your plan after this?"
"Do you Skype all the time?"
"How do you trust him?"

All real questions I have been asked recently regarding my personal life. Seriously.

Isolated, or in passing, perhaps these comments wouldn't seem so invasive to the average listening ear. I am sure no harm was meant by them. But good gravy, does it start to get annoying after a while when the most interesting thing people can seem to think of to talk about with you, is the status of your relationship, as if there aren't any other meaningful things happening in your life at the same time.

I can tell you right now, I won't be sharing any juicy details about my personal life in this blog post, or really, anywhere else online; so if that's what you're looking for, you can stop reading right now. I'm not Carrie Bradshaw. As part of my coming of age, I have learned that relationships are best kept private; with the majority of details shared only between you and the person of your affection. Period.

What I am interested in hashing out, though, is how downright irritating it is to be asked these kinds of questions. Especially when they compound on one another because it's not just one person asking.

First of all, the very nature of these questions is probing. It crosses the line into a territory of topics which I would prefer not to discuss flippantly with just anyone. I am a naturally talkative person, but I expect for my privacy to be respected, just like anyone else. I can promise you, if I wanted to discuss these kinds of things with you, I would come to you, rather than waiting for you to broach the topic with me. So if I'm not talking to you about what a struggle something is, that's probably because (gasp) it's not actually a struggle.

Secondly, I find these comments to be so rude because I don't imagine they would be directed at someone who lives in the same zip code as their significant other. I'm guessing you'd be less likely to pry into the business of a couple who lives together. I get it: people are fascinated by what they don't understand. But long distance relationships are not unicorns; you can find them anywhere. Maybe the real question here should be, what is it about them that is so difficult for you to comprehend? They are still relationships, and you're still not entitled to be a part of mine. Google exists. Please consider using it, instead of relying on me to share with you personal details about my life for your mind-opening education.

And third, these kinds of comments put an undue amount of pressure on a situation where there simply is no need for it. Contrary to popular practice, a relationship is a sanctuary of love and peace, a bond of acceptance, effort, support, and teamwork. There is very little room for pressure in a place that is so uniquely reserved for giving you life instead of bringing you stress. So pardon me, but who the hell are you to demand that pressure and stress be entitled to a single square inch of this love, for which you are not one of the architects? If I'm pretty chill about it, I'm not quite sure why you're so worked up on my behalf.

I don't mean to seem overly sensitive, because they are, after all, just questions. Questions, which others have asked me because, I presume, they care enough about me to know the answers. But is that really it? Or are you just so perplexed by the easy existence of what you think is unnatural, that you feel suddenly insecure in yourself because, as you say, "[You] would never be able to do that"?

You can't do it? Great. Then don't. No one is asking you to.

I can do a lot of things. Some of which, I presume, you cannot. And vice versa. There are plenty of things that others can do, which I cannot. But I don't go around casting these things as bizarre or outlandish and asking probing, personal questions about how they do it, or why they do it, or if they plan to keep doing it a few years down the road. So I'd expect the same courtesy in return.

Work on yourself first. That's the best answer I can give you, and it's in response to you sticking your nose in other people's business, rather than to a single one of the questions you asked. Why are you so interested in the inner workings of my personal life? What's missing from your own that made you so concerned about mine? That's the first question I think you should really be worried about learning the answer to.

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If I Had Never Quit My First Job After College

If Present Me could visit Year Ago Me and recount to her all that has happened in the time since then, I think it would be just about enough to send Year Ago Me into a frenzied anxiety attack as she began her last semester of college and approached that daunting period of time known as After Graduation. Year Ago Me was lucky. She didn't know how good she had it, flying by the seat of her pants and figuring it out as she went along. And if Year Ago Me was lucky, then Ten Months Ago Me was whatever is more lucky than lucky. Because she snagged a Job After College just the very day before Graduation. So very typical of all versions of Me.

I was lucky that I got that first Job After College when I did, and I was even more lucky that the boss let me start three weeks later, allowing me two weeks in France as the congratulatory reward I decided I'd earned. Yes, I was lucky. But I wanted more. I had a Job After College, the very thing that had caused me anxiety for many days and nights leading up to the moment I walked across the stage in May. I was supposed to love it, to be grateful, to make money, and to be fulfilled. All the hard work of the previous four years and every single summer course and pre-session I took was supposed to be paying off now. This was the time I had always groaned about to myself as I did all the things I didn't want to do throughout college, every time I told myself, "Someday this will all pay off." This was Someday. But it sure didn't feel like all it was cracked up to be.

Never having been someone to ignore her feelings, not even for a minute, I knew that simply going through the motions with this Job After College just wasn't going to cut it for me. No, I needed something more. Sure, this Job After College was fine; it paid the bills and passed the time. But there are more meaningful things to life. There is fulfillment; there is passion; there is euphoria. And wherever those things were hiding, I didn't know. But I did know one thing at least: it sure wasn't here. So, I quit.

I've looked back at that moment of my life a lot since it happened, in hindsight, and I've gone through feeling many different ways about it. A lot of the time it was the emotion closest to regret as I could really ever describe. Not regret because I quit (I haven't regretted that for a second) but more like regret that what I was seeking when I left was nowhere near what I actually found. I had high hopes for myself, as I have since as long as I can remember. I wanted to move upward and onward, and that's where I envisioned my life and my career heading as I walked out the door on my last day of work. I had no idea just how difficult the next few months would prove to be. So it's only natural, I think, for me to think to myself when times have been tough, "Man, if only I had never quit my first job after college..."

Well, I've heard it from just about everyone close to me in some form or another, and when it started to seep into my own subconscious is the moment when I decided that enough was enough. I am resilient, I am adaptable, and if there is not another good thing to be said about myself, at least let it be said that I learn from my experiences. So, I decided (although not entirely intentionally, I'll admit) that I was done with the wallowing and self-pity. Yes, I lost a reliable income when I quit that job, but I think we are failing to focus on all that I gained.

Life is funny, and hindsight is, in fact, always 20/20. So it was not until just last night, one week before my twenty-third birthday, and eight whole months after I began that first Job After College, that the Nature of the Universe finally revealed itself to me and I was able to see the beauty and purpose in the path that my life has taken since the moment when I quit my first Job After College.

If I Had Never Quit My First Job After College

If I had never quit my first job after college in the beginning of last September, I never would have had my first real experience with presenting an intimidating boss with a letter of resignation.

If I had never quit my first job after college, I never would have met Kendel, or Kara or Joe or Kevin or Wade. I never would have experienced the pure displeasure which is direct selling, or any of the other explicitly pushy techniques I was told to study and master. I never would have learned to avoid the Electronics department of Walmart at certain times of the day on certain days of the week. I never would've had the luxury of starting work at 10:30 in the morning, and therefore had time to run three whole miles before a day spent standing on my feet, improving my stamina and endurance every time. I never would've gained the life experience of defending myself and my relationship against someone who did not have the same standards for himself or his relationship with his pregnant girlfriend at the time. I also never would've learned all that I did about DirecTV and AT&T and the business acquisition which happened between them both, nor any of the technical details I learned about television, Internet, and home phones.

If I had never quit my first job after college, I never would've gone to work for a travel agency and learned all that I did about the travel industry as a whole, which remains something very interesting to me. I never would've learned the main hub airports for Southwest, American, United, or Delta. I never would've helped so many people create memories in cities all over the country, and I never would've learned all that I did about transit visas and passports. I never would've met Genesis and eaten dinner with her in my home, spending hours catching up. I never would've met Daniel or Sophie or Robin, who reminds me so much of my mother. I never would've gained their friendship and heard the reverberation of my own soul in theirs. And I never would've experienced such a horrible boss as I did during my time there, or known what it felt like to cry in the bathroom at work. I never would have learned so much about the dirty secrets of one of Wichita's most prolific business families. I never would have momentarily forgotten my worth and accepted being paid minimum wage and belittled everyday. I never would have been so physically stressed out and tense because of a minimum wage job that I decided to take up YouTube Yoga every morning before going in to work. And because of that, I never would have made so much progress on my shoulder stand pose; ironically, my mind and body would not have improved as much as they did once I was pushed to finally mandate time for myself. And I never would've gained the strength and courage I did when I walked into his office for the final time to tell him I was done being mistreated, nor would I have felt the rush of true liberating relief that I did as I drove out of the parking lot for the last time.

If I had never quit my first job after college, I never would have needed to make more money and driven for Uber using Elle's car for three weeks. I never would've had so many great conversations with strangers in Wichita or told my story of working to buy a plane ticket to go visit my boyfriend for Christmas so many times. I never would have picked up so many passengers from all around the world, or felt the common thread of our collective humanity. I never would've experienced rolling around in Elle's vibrantly-decorated LGBT-mobile and felt how differently I was treated because of it, especially as it sat in the parking lot of my apartment the morning after Trump was elected.

If I had never quit my first job after college, I never would've driven downtown on that first Uber night, and seen my friend Kate's coffee bus parked at the Pop Up Park on a Friday night. I never would've stopped the car and gotten out to say hi, and I never would've told her that I was doing Uber because my crappy boss at my day job paid me minimum wage and I needed to take up a side hustle if I ever planned on boarding a plane to France in December. Kate never would've pointed to the food truck set up right next to hers and suggested I introduce myself to the owner because she was looking for someone to cashier part time and Kate thought we'd get along. I never would've walked right over to the window of that truck and asked for Lisa. I never would have met Lisa, or Eddi, or Kimber, Alex, or Christian. I never would've bonded with Lisa over our the dysfunction of our families, or thought of my own mother every time she said, "groovy". My path never would have gotten around to any of the other food truckers, either, and I never would've met Greg or Manu or Lauren or Jeff. I never would've gone to work for Jeff either, when he needed a shift covered last minute. I never would have forged those bonds with Wichita roots, or known regular faces at local places like CSB or Aero Plains. I never would've even known what Kimchi is, or cared about the presence of high fructose corn syrup in what I eat. I never would've carried that knowledge and awareness into an organic health foods store with me today. And I certainly never would've come to appreciate just how hard it is to work for tips, or how helpful a little lipstick and a nice smile can be for that. I never would have known the truly old-fashioned feeling that is stuffing a wad of cash into an envelope and mailing it home to your Momma at the end of the week, so she can maneuver it into your online bank account for you.

If I had never quit my first job after college, I never would have quit my second job, or my third. I never would have returned to the RSC after having finally walking away from Brad, to go plop down in Rich's office and chat openly with him about how much I appreciated him as a boss, and more importantly, as a friend, now that I did not have him anymore. I never would've known what it felt like to dislike one boss so much, in order to love and truly appreciate another even more. I never would have sat at a bar and drank beer with a former boss and discussed the legality of the actions of my current one. I never would have had such an experience.

If I had never quit my first job after college, I never in a million years would have been able to just drop everything and jet-set to Europe for nineteen days. I probably would not have been able to work my magic and charm any employer into justifying that absence, so I never would have arrived in Orly Airport in Paris, exhausted and smelly, with ripped jeans and unbrushed teeth, early in the morning in the middle of December. For that matter, I would still yet to have ever experienced the sheer luxury that is a bilingual British Airways international flight. I most likely never would have successfully pulled off going to France for Christmas with David, which means I would not as of yet had met his family; his parents, his sister, his brother-in-law, aunt, uncle, and cousins. I still would not know what la raclette is, and that would be a crying shame. I would not have the nineteen extra days of cultural immersion under my belt that I do, and however many countless vocabulary words I learned that trip would not yet be in my cerebral possession. I would not have spent a day in Paris at Christmas with Justine, laughing the whole time. I would not have really, truly, physically seen what my life might look like in France, if I actually got accepted into the TAPIF, and I would not have gone from about 80% sure to the full 100, that I absolutely wanted to live there someday very soon.

If I had never quit my first job after college, I would not know quite so well the misery that is even worse than the Minimum Wage Blues, but rather what followed: The Unemployment Blues. I would not have faced repeated employment rejection so many times from the very University I just contributed so much money to for more than four years. I would not have rallied my energy and persistence immediately after I received that rejection email while I was in France, my very own Happy Place. I would not have crashed down quite so hard to Rock Bottom and felt the ache in my bones as I collided simultaneously with the cold, hard earth and bitter reality. I would not have spent that time in Europe with very little spending money, and I would not have returned home flat broke. That would not have, in turn, inspired me to wipe my brow and work harder than ever to find something, anything, to pay the bills. I would never have spent a weeknight sitting crouched in front of this very computer, applying to job after job on site after site, as I polished off the last of David's disgusting Scotch in one night. I would never have marathoned more than 100 applications in one sitting as I did that evening. I never would have tasted such panicked desperation, and I never would have wanted it even more. I never would have jumped through so many hoops and gone to so many first-round interviews, only to not be invited back for the second-round afterward. I never would have been nearly as creative as I was with selling my resume to employers, skills which I no doubt retained from my second job after college. I never would've cried as much as I did and felt the true pang of sadness that was failure and rejection, or realized just how hard it really is to get back up that eighth time after you have fallen down seven.

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If I had never quit my first job after college, I never would have accepted a position at a hoity-toity health foods store twenty-five minutes across Wichita from my apartment, with mere thirty minute lunch breaks, where my cell phone is considered the purest of contraband. I never would have accepted it as a viable option because I never would have admitted to myself that perhaps I did not have any other realistic options at this moment in time. I never would have considered that maybe living solely off of wages earned on the food truck in the coldest months of the year were not going to afford my rent for me next month. I never would have acted out of necessity, rather than my usual condition of privilege and pleasure. And I never would have come to realize that, along with making the highest hourly wage I've ever made in my life, I now actually enjoy my work and genuinely kind co-workers. But on the way to where I am now, I never would have had to ask so many of my family members if I could borrow money; and my relationships with my relatives would not have been so strained because of it, but they would not have grown and flourished as they have, either. If I had not taken this path in my life, I never would have been so truly humbled. I would not have appreciated my landlord's kindness and understanding quite so much. My heart would not have come to so warmly feel the true meaning of gratitude to all those who have helped me through my struggle in some way.

If I had never quit my first job after college, I would have remained complacent, resenting myself for settling for such a miserable feeling, until I eventually became numb. I would have significantly fewer friends and experiences, and I would have driven the same ten-minute drive to work every single day for the past eight months. I would have health insurance and a significant allowance of PTO by now, but my life never would have twisted and turned in this way. Neither my stubborn heart nor determined mind would not have been so violently pried open by change and forced to adapt in order for me to survive. I would have had only two W-2s to file last month and I am sure that the last three-quarters of a year would have gone a little more smoothly for me - financially, emotionally, and otherwise. I would have a much greater wealth of money, but I would be so much poorer in life experience, sorrow, and joy. I would not be better off, if I had never quit my first job after college.

If I had never quit my first job after college, I never would have learned so many things, many of which I can't remember now, and probably more still that I am not even consciously aware of yet. If I had never taken my foot off of that first stepping stone, I never would have arrived on the second, or third, or fourth, as far as that goes. I never would have honestly felt like I was pushing myself to really do more than what I knew I was settling for at the moment. And that would have eaten me up inside, because I would have known that I was not truly dreaming to my full potential. I was dumb, but I was brave. I was an idiot, but I was absolutely fearless about it. I made mistakes, but I owned them. And I know now, if I didn't before, that there really is no better way for me to learn. Life is about trial and error, and I am so proud of myself now, knowing that I was not afraid for a moment to try and fail, just to see what I could learn through the experience. I threw caution and safety to the wind, and I followed my heart. It was a long way down, but it didn't lead me astray. Every time we don't succeed, we learn one more way that does not achieve our goal. And we learn a whole heck of a lot about ourselves in the process.

If I had never quit my first job after college, I would have so many fewer bumps and bruises to my name, but I'd have a whole lot less character because of it, too; and not nearly as many stories.Every next level of your life demands a new version of yourself. Maybe I wasn't ready for whatever I went through on my path before I eventually got to it. But I had to go down the very path I did, in order to finally arrive. And from where I'm standing now, looking back at the many places I've been, I can see it all beginning to finally make sense. And it's happening just in time, too, as I turn my head to face the future and continue on down my path, lugging along all the lessons of the past with me as I go. I don't know what exactly it is that I may meet in the future, but just imagine how much more unprepared for it I would be, if I had never quit my first job after college.