Trust Me, You’ll Be Fine: 9 Ways To Deal With And Get Over The Proverbial Quarter-Life Crisis

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We all have crises every now and then. From problems with school deadlines, to forging career paths, to dealing with financial matters, to coping with the demands of a good social life, to some family issues here and there, to healing from a broken heart; sometimes being a 20-something can be a “difficult” task. And when these difficulties come together all at once and bombard you with non-stop stress and consistent overanalyzing, you chalk it up to a “quarter-life crisis” and manage it (or try to overcompensate) by constantly drinking and partying, drowning your social networks with emotional posts, taking trips to scenic locations to “find yourself” or some other personalized coping method that may or may not be a little crazy by standards of “normal” life.

During our 20s, we encounter a lot of transitions that can be overwhelming, but we’re too young for the “mid-life crisis.” So, we came up with our own version. I feel guilty referring to this time as a “quarter-life crisis” because in spite of the problems, I am still able to eat three times a day (at least), go out every now and then, have a comfortable bed in which to sleep and access to a smartphone and the Internet. I am still among the lucky ones, and if you are able to read this then you are, too.

In retrospect, my “problems” were pretty inconsequential, but at the time, they made me feel extremely depressed — as in, crying rivers, smoking my lungs out, screaming at the top of my lungs, can-barely-get-out-of-bed type of depression. Struggling is relative. Here’s what I learned:

It’s okay to cry.

Crying, no matter how childish it may seem, can help to relieve some of the weight off your shoulders. I used to try not to cry, but after I eventually let it all out, I gradually felt better and calmer.

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You can always count on your family.

I grew up dealing with typical family squabbles, but in spite of all of our differences, my family never let me down. Blood really is thicker than water and I’m lucky to have such a supportive family, especially to have had them during such a difficult time.

While not everyone is lucky enough to have a stable support system, I know I’m not the only one blessed with one. You might have overbearing parents or annoying siblings, but when you need them, you’d be shocked to find just how readily they’re willing to fight for you.

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You will realize who your true friends are during trying times.

I’ve always prided myself on having a lot of friends, but when the chips were down and I began to make really stupid decisions, only a handful stayed around. I don’t mean “stayed” to mean that they turned a blind eye to my mistakes, but rather, they saw my faults, scolded me and called me out on my bullsh*t. They accepted me anyway and tried to help me overcome my problems by listening, even when my issues were petty and repetitive. No judgments, just acceptance and support.

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Having problems doesn’t make you less awesome.

Problems are normal — everyone has them. But, that neither makes you a bad nor boring person. What can make you less awesome is how you choose to deal with your problems: Will you choose to revel in the drama, to run away, or to face your problems head on and become stronger in the process?

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You will realize how strong you are when you have no other choice but to be strong.

 This may be a cliché, but it’s still very true. You’d be surprised by how much you can handle after you overcome your problems.

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Never regret anything because at some point, it was what you wanted.

Yes, we make stupid mistakes. Yes, we all go through some really unsavory circumstances. Years later, we may look back in horror at the sh*t we did or went through, whether it was a bad haircut or a jerk boyfriend. Regardless, don’t regret it. You once wanted it and you learned from it. Everything really does happen for a reason.

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You will make mistakes for as long as you live.

LEARN FROM THEM.

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At some point, you will find yourself in the middle of nowhere. And in the middle of nowhere, you will find yourself.

Sometimes you need to lose yourself to find yourself. When you’re lost and feeling down, you will understand what kind of person you are and what kind of person you want to be.

It’s okay feel lost because when you find yourself at those crossroads, you will realize which road you want to take. And while you might not always decide on the correct path and doubling back isn’t always possible, there are more forks ahead that you can use to redirect your path. You can also learn to forge new roads, should you wish to do so. It’s just a matter of realizing where you are and where you want to go.

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When the going gets tough, there will ALWAYS be one person you can count on: YOU.

You have the capacity to surpass your problems. Lose a job? Learn new skills and get a new one, even if it takes 100 tries. Lose a friend? Decide if the friendship was worth it, then talk it out or let go. Lose a love? You don’t need a soul mate to live a good and fulfilling life.

Don’t ever give up on life, even if it feels like you are being unfairly assaulted with problem after problem. People will let you down. Events can let you down. Things are constantly changing and life will continuously provide you with new stressors.

You are the only person who has the power to not let yourself down. So, use that power wisely and keep striving to be better, stronger and smarter. You’d be surprised at what kind of person you are capable of becoming if you choose to do something about your “problems” rather than blindly go through them.
The Wright brothers, Steve Jobs and plenty of other successful people went through some extremely frustrating times under really trying conditions, but they all ended up victorious. Money and fame are not the key ingredients to success. Success is about becoming who you want to be, no matter the circumstances.

You are stronger than your problems. You are made of greatness. Prove this to yourself and then prove it to the world.


Originally published on: http://elitedaily.com/life/9-things-learn-quarter-life-crisis/

To The Most Beautiful Woman There Ever Was

Around Christmas three years ago, I lost my mother to cancer. I wrote about it a few months back, about how painful it is to go through something like that—and how painful it still is. No amount of words could ever really do justice to the experience, they are never enough to let anybody know just how miserable it was.

Tomorrow is my mother’s birthday, and on the weekend will be Mother’s Day. And instead of writing about the tragedy of death, as I have before, I’m going to tell you about life—her life.

Like a lot of people, I know I grew up with a love-hate relationship with my mother. She’s the stricter between my parents, and there was a lot of pressure to live up to her expectations—doing well in school, taming down extra-curriculars, being quiet and responsible home bodies. Eventually, I stopped paying too much attention to academics and focused more on various school and after-school activities (like school plays and several organizations)—until my grades began to slide, and we began to share our first few fights.

We shared a lot of screaming matches (with my sisters as well) over chores, our social lives, boys and vices like drinking, smoking and piercings, to name a few. There were definitely moments when we nearly strangled each other, a normal situation between mothers and daughters. I was scared of her, for a time, because I was a teenager and it was in my chemical composition to be.

Of course, that’s not to say we didn’t get along with her—we did. We often went to the mall together, sharing a love of shopping and food. One of my fondest memories of my mom would be that she was, and still is, the best cook and baker I know. Countless hours were spent in the kitchen, making brownies and chocolate chip cookies and yummy cakes.

A lot of things that I used to resent are the things that I’m now grateful she imparted: flawless instructions on etiquette, learning to do chores, how to speak with people, enrolling us in dance, karate and tennis lessons, feeding our love for books, finding time for the family—mother really did know best. And now, I only wish I can tell her that.

Her invitations on Facebook for Farmville used to annoy the hell out of me. But now, I would gladly trade three hundred requests for just one more day with her. And speaking of Facebook, I used to be so embarrassed when she commented on photos of me and my friends, and now, I would give anything for even just one more comment.

My mother was the strongest, bravest, most graceful, most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, and I’m not just saying that because she’s my mother. Or maybe that’s precisely why I’m saying that—because she was an absolutely amazing mother.

I wish I could have had more time with her. She was an angel—and she earned her angel’s wings far too soon.

I said I would talk about her life, but I can't ever do it justice. I can’t even say it right, but maybe that’s because no words will ever be enough to tell you how wonderful she was and how grateful I am for her.

Happy birthday to my very own angel, and I miss you every day. I will always be thankful that I got to know you. I love you, Mami.

How To Write

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I don’t think I have any business telling anybody HOW to write. I’m an amateur blogger who writes mostly about life and love. I’m no Shakespeare or John Green or J.K. Rowling. But some people have been asking me how to write (and I have no idea how to respond properly, as I’m just a geek with a lot of opinions, a laptop and internet access), so I’ll do my best to help. No promises though that these will work for you, just that these have helped me express myself personally. Here are my top five tips for writing:

1.     Check out The Elements Of Style by William Strunk, Jr.and E. B. White

This one is a technical tip. When I first got out of high school, I thought that opening a journal or a Word Document is all I needed to know about writing. Going into college and taking up Journalism though, I realized that there was more to it, like styles and grammar to think about, depending on the type of piece you’re trying to write. This is one of the books a professor assigned to us then that stuck to me even all these years later. It’s worth a peek!

2.     Be honest.

Writing is the only place I know how to be completely honest. When I write, my thoughts and feelings just automatically flow into the page, and that’s really helped me tell the world exactly how I feel or what I think. You don’t need page views or reader comments to validate your writing. Write for yourself, to express whatever you really want to say. Writing as honestly as you can helps make your piece more personal and heartfelt, something that (based on my experience), helps readers to better connect with you.

3.     Write about things that interest you. Things you care about. Things you know. Things you feel.

I chose to become a corporate drone after taking Journalism for years because I didn’t want to write about sports or politics or business, and I didn’t want people telling me that I was a worthless writer because of it. I have friends who write (and well) about sports or news, and this works for them because this is what is important to them. I, on the other hand, wanted to write about life and love, however boring and useless that might seem to others, so I just stopped writing altogether. Eventually though, I missed it, and I tried writing again. And once I started, I couldn’t stop. It doesn’t matter to me anymore that I can’t write deep universal articles on current events. I write about the things I love because these are the things I know best. Negative comments shouldn’t undermine your own thoughts (unless you’re writing a news piece based on non-credible “facts”). Write for you, about the things that are relevant to you.

4.     Find your voice and USE IT.

Every writer is different. Some feel the need to use flowery language or repetitive words to get the point across. Others are straightforward and concise. But every single writer has a voice: Find your own voice and use it. Talk about things that matter to you, and I guarantee you, somewhere out there is even just one other person who can relate to the way you talk. You don’t have to write to please every single reader that comes across your piece, or to copy the way other writers tell their own stories. You don’t even have to stick to one style forever. Every story can have a different way of being told, all you have to do is write it the way you’re most comfortable with.

5.     Don’t EVER let anybody tell you that you can’t write.

Like I said, you write for YOU, and you can’t please all the readers in the world. Don’t let negative comments or judgmental messages get to you. Don’t stop writing because some other person said you can’t. Keep writing, because you know in your heart that you should.

You want to write? Just grab a pen and a paper, your laptop, your tablet, your phone—whichever works best for you. Then go sit somewhere quiet or play your favorite music, and write away.

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Any other tips that work for you personally? Share them!

10 Things I Hate About You - The Unrequited Love Version, 2014

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If you haven't heard of the legendary poem from 10 Things I Hate About You (Julia Stiles, Heath Ledger, Can't Take My Eyes Off You... Ring a bell?), then you need to watch it. Pronto. It's one of those must-watch cutsey movies of the 90's (with a kick-ass soundtrack) that will have you salivating over Heath Ledger, Joseph Gordon-Levitt and maybe even Andrew Keegan.

The original poem went like this:

I hate the way you talk to me, 
and the way you cut your hair.
I hate the way you drive my car, 
I hate it when you stare. 
I hate your big dumb combat boots 
and the way you read my mind. 
I hate you so much it makes me sick,
it even makes me rhyme. 
I hate the way you’re always right, 
I hate it when you lie. 
I hate it when you make me laugh,
even worse when you make me cry. 
I hate it when you’re not around, 
and the fact that you didn’t call. 
But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, 
not even close…
not even a little bit… 
not even at all.

I wrote my own version, trying to stay as true to the text as possible (the number of syllables and the last word rhyme off the original). It's about a typical girl-next-door today who falls in love with a douchebag who doesn't treat her right and she still wants to save him. And she can't help but love him anyway. Word of warning though, I'm a frustrated poet. I mean, really frustrated. I just wanted to try my hand at writing something different. So here goes:

I hate the way you look at me,

And the way you wax your hair

I hate when you smoke in your car

I hate that you don’t care

I hate the way you call me “Toots,”

And the respect I can’t find

I hate you so much, you make me sick

You never have the time.

I hate that you drink every night

I hate every time you lie

I hate that you’re my better half

But you never really try

I hate that you’re never around

And that you don’t return my calls

But mostly I hate the way I can’t hate you…

Even though we’ve sunk so low

Even though you act like shit

But you still make me fall.

Confessions Of The Most Awkward Dork On This Side Of The World

Photo by Josh Camahort

I have never been one of the popular kids in school. I was always one of the weirdos in the back of the room, laughing like a hyena at some lame joke, poring over books, squealing over hunky 90s boy bands, creating little mindless works of art or writing about the woes of an emotional teenager.

I never quite looked like one of the popular kids either. I danced ballet for years, but I never quite lived with that kind of grace. I took tennis lessons and went wall-climbing, but I was never built to be a jock. I was always the strangely tall, klutzy freak with a truckload of acne issues who struggled with her weight. Like everyone else, I went through this awkward phase. But unlike the rest of the world, I never grew out of it.

I dealt with the pressures of society like any struggling teenager would: I pretended not to give a damn, but I cared a lot about what people thought. Maybe I cared too much about what they thought. To a point, I tried to re-invent myself several times.

I lost a lot of weight due to some health concerns, and I embraced this change. I began to put on make-up and traded my old lady wardrobe for short shorts and flirty dresses. I started hanging out with cool crowds more than my nerdy friends, where drinking and partying became a nightly ritual. Me, with my insane allergy to all alcoholic beverages (that’s one shot red, two shots tipsy, three shots dead). I started smoking and loitering around campus became more important than doing well in my classes. When more guys started paying attention to me, I felt good because not many did when I was that awkward freak. There were also times, at the peak of my newfound persona, that I made up stories to make me more interesting. Stories that I later on paid a price for, but that experience brought me to this.

I am Kat, a 20-something weird girl with acne problems and weight issues who stands taller than most Filipinas… and Filipinos. After a year of letting myself slide, I’m only now trying to get back into shape. But I will never have the body of a Victoria’s Secret model. I like putting on make-up and I like wearing whatever makes me comfortable (including extremely high heels), but I will never be that beautiful head-turner who can make guys chase after her with a wink or a hair flip. I can converse well with you, but I will never be able to memorize the more intellectual details of literature or understand the nitty gritty of politics or quote scores and team standings on various sports. You can try pick-up lines on me, but I’m the freak who panics and doesn’t know how to respond. I like meeting new people in whatever way I can, at bars or on Tinder, but I don’t do hookups. I can rough it as well as the next adventurer, though climbing mountains or going through caves takes me more time than most people need. I struggle with self-esteem issues, and I don’t think that’s going away any time soon. I like to party but I can’t drink. I still believe in fairy tales but I no longer believe in happily ever afters (hello, jaded ex girlfriend!). I make a lot of mistakes. But I learn from them.

I am an ordinary woman with average intellect and above average dorkiness, but I am now comfortable with being just that. Because I have a good life and I’m surrounded by a lot of love. I am accepted in all my geeky glory by my lovely family and my awesome friends, from the nerdy crowd to the cool party-goers, from the boys who treat me like one of the boys, to professional colleagues who became friends, to everyone in between.

I am a dork. And that isn’t a bad thing. Because being a dork is what makes me, me. And if being a dork means I'll spend the rest of my life alone (I know, too early to be this cynical, right?) then at least I'm now happy about spending the rest of my life with just me.

"The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries or the way she combs her hair." – Audrey Hepburn

Coffee Shop

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Ever since I started freelance writing, I’d tried using different environments to inspire me. I’d tried writing in my pajamas and lounging around all day, waiting for my sleepiness to wear off. I usually ended up watching marathons of different TV series and wonder late at night where the time went. I’d tried hanging at office lobbies and making use of their WiFi for my personal needs. It was a little weird to be typing away at my laptop wearing jeans and a shirt while corporate robots walked around in spiffy business suits.

My favorite place to write ended up being coffee shops—any coffee shop. Aside from the fact that I am in a long-term relationship (that’s still going strong) with caffeine, I liked sitting outside and ignoring the world, hacking at my keyboard while they passed. Sometimes when I have nothing left to type, I just sit there, alone, and people-watch.

I used to hate sitting alone at public establishments—it made me feel like such a loser. But eventually I realized it was something I really enjoyed. It had a relaxing influence on me, to sit alone and just watch people go by as I thought up of my next lines. I sound like such a stalker, now don’t I? But I swear, I love the calming effect that coffee shops have on me when I write. It’s almost therapeutic. Don’t get me wrong, I like writing when I’m irate or emotional—my fingers type out my feelings even before my mind begins to process them. But since I think my slew of passionate articles from November 2013 to date has pretty much dried up my emotional toothpaste (Shawn Hunter, BMW), I am more than willing to take my coffee shop therapy. 

Earlier as I was writing an article on RF Treatment, I was sitting at a table across from this girl who was watching some movie on her phone. She sat there for 2 hours, sniffling loudly the whole time. Every time I glanced over, I saw her wiping tears off her face—huge, copious, unbelievable amounts of tears. And a fictional story that I would (probably not) write someday began to unfold in my mind, of a girl who had her heart broken, sat in a coffee shop and cried over The Notebook. She sat there so she wouldn’t feel alone, even though every moment felt so lonely. Ooohhkay, that’s hitting a little close to home, circa 2012.

I continued writing and glanced to my left. There was a group of freshmen college coeds there, studying for their finals. Don’t ask me how I know they were freshmen—they just had that fresh meat smell to them. Also, they were small. I wasn’t that tiny when I was a frosh, was I? Their time was spent alternating between reading their textbooks and making googly eyes at each other. One was apparently the 11th wheel or something. Wonder how many of those cutesy relationships will last.

I went to sit outside once my battery finished charging. Beside me, two businessmen were arguing about figures and manpower. No way would I pretend to make sense of that. Three feet way, a group of girls were gossiping about their boss. Now I know this because I could hear them. Poor suckers. Wonder if they realized someone was watching them and listening from a table away. Well, they were pretty loud. And they were at a coffee shop right outside their office building (as I assumed from their attires). Did they want to be overheard?

A lot of people passed by in the eight hours that I sat there (I know, I need to get a life). A girl rushing off to school, a gigantic foreign businessman who had a weird strut, a balding janitor with a kind smile, a hipster (complete with glasses) in a tight checked polo on his phone, scowling (argument with the girlfriend, maybe?) and taking huge puffs from his cigarette every other sentence. There were also ordinary people just walking by, people I didn’t really try to notice, but maybe should have.

My point is this: I get a lot of inspiration just sitting a coffee shop and watching the people go by when I have nothing left to say.

Everyone has a story to tell, a story that they might not want to speak about in the first place. I looked at their faces, from the smiling eyes to those dripping in tears, from the gossipy smirks to the worried set of their lips, from their suitcases to their stilettos , there’s always a story you can try to tell. Or someone’s expression that sets off the next line of your piece, telling you with their faces what you should have been saying.

It’s weird, I know. But give it a shot. You want to learn about people? Find a coffee shop, order their largest drink, and sit there for a few hours. You’d be overwhelmed at how many stories your mind begins to tell you.

And for a writer, that’s a damned good problem to have.

Also: if you try sitting at some coffee shop and find yourself glancing at an oddball with messy hair and a beat-up laptop in front of her, do yourself a favor and look away. I think she’s told more than enough stories to the world.

Dear Future Lover Of Mine, I Hope I Don’t Meet You Anytime Soon

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Dear You,

I don’t know your name. I don’t know who you are or where you are or when we will ever meet. I don’t know whether or not you are already in my life somewhere. I don’t even know if you exist in this lifetime. I’d like to believe you’re walking this earth someplace, but sometimes I’m not sure if I even believe in the idea of fate and romance anymore. Maybe you can save me from myself.

If you are in this lifetime and on this planet though, I hope I don’t meet you anytime soon. I have a lot to learn and I will probably hurt you, because I don’t know yet that you are the one who will make me happy.

I’ve been through a lot. But while I wish you could have been there with me, I know you will be proud of me because of how strong I turned out to be and all the things I made it through without you. See, I had to be alone for a while so I’d know what I’m capable of. And so I’d appreciate having someone like you more.

I like being single right now because all my time is mine. I need to be single for a while so I will not regret not having this kind of freedom in the future. When I’m yours, I’ll be completely yours because I had this time to be mine.

But sometimes I miss being in love. There are days when I wish you can get here faster just so I can have the kind of love that I’ve been waiting for since what feels like forever. But I guess it’s better that you’re not here yet because I don’t know how to be with you right now. I’ll probably say a lot of really stupid things and scare you away.

You won’t just be the love of my life, you will also be my best friend in the world. I’d always thought of all my old loves as best friends at the time, but I don’t think I ever really knew what that meant. I love that I will be able to tell you anything and everything and know that you will be the one person in the world who understands.

We won’t always get along and we will more-than-possibly get into some really ugly fights, but I know that in the end, we can make it through because nothing is more important than learning and growing together.

We are probably different people with diverse interests, and that’s a good thing. We will make time for what is important to the other because we like making each other happy. Of course, there will be things that we enjoy doing together. We will spend some days curled up with a blanket and books or popcorn and a good movie. Braveheart will always be a favorite between us, and reruns of FRIENDS will take up some of our lazy Sundays. But we will spend most of our time going around the world together, seeing places we’ve only once dreamed of traveling to.

We both love to talk and laugh, and we will spend a lot of our time getting to know each other. Even when we’ve been together 20 years, we will always find something new about the other or reminisce about the people we once had to be to get there. And while I will probably roll my eyes at your jokes, I will also smile just because it’s so cute how you tried to tell the punch line.

You’ve probably loved a girl (or more) before me, and that’s okay. I’m sorry though if you’ve gotten hurt and I wasn’t there to make you feel better. I’ve been in love before you, too, and I’ve also gotten my heart broken and feel like nobody could really understand. It will take a long time before I can let anyone else in again, and maybe you feel the same way. It will be better to find each other after going through all that, just so we will both know how to not take being in love for granted.

We’ve both become better people separately, something I will always be thankful for. And because of all the pain we have to go through before we meet, we will both realize then that we deserve that happiness and we deserve each other.

I don’t know what you look like but I know you have kind eyes and a genuine smile. I don’t know what you do for a living but I know that you will have time for me. I don’t know you, but I know that you can give me hug when I’m down, hold my hand for no reason and kiss me just because you love me.

There’s a possibility though, that you don’t exist, and I’m writing this letter for no one. But in spite of all the cynicism I’m entitled to, I have to believe that you’re out there somewhere. I have to believe that all the heartache I’d ever had to endure will someday lead me to you. I have to believe that God created you because He knew I would need you. And while I know I’m a complete person on my own, I have to believe that someone like you exists, someone who might not complete me, but can make life better. More beautiful. More colorful. A man who can make me believe in love again.

I don’t know who you are or if I’ll ever find you, but I wish with all my heart that you’re out there, waiting, just like I am.

I know that someday I will find you. In this lifetime, or the next, I will find you.Yours (someday),

Me 

Originally published by Thought Catalog at www.thoughtcatalog.com

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry, I haven't had time to write anything for this lately, but I'll be better about it. In the meantime, this is one of my pieces on Thought Catalog that I'm proudest of. I wrote it for the man I hope to meet one day, and for every single person out there, male or female, who still believes in love.