Twentysomething Anxiety: Time, Social Media and Everything in Between

Meg Jay hit the nail on the head when she coined the phrase "Defining Decade" to describe what it means to be in one's twenties, particularly in this digital generation. A lot of young people get lost in all the options presented to them along the way, with the mentality that there is a shortcut to success, like everything else in this world. If there's something to recall in the book, it's her call to bring back the value of hard work and rid ourselves of the "You Only Live Once" (YOLO) mentality we are both proud of and shameful for. It's to sacrifice the temporary temptation of now to work towards the future we want. There's never a better time to be young than now, considering all the options we have in this globalized, information empowered world, but that isn't without its disadvantages. 

To belong to this generation is to embrace being in a constant state of contradiction - a generation that preaches authenticity through filters, a generation with a dating lifestyle that revolves around the "Fear Of Missing Out" (FOMO) only to desire intimacy in the end.  We're a generation so averse to routines, cubicles, 9  - 5 work hours, a generation so obsessed with finding our passion and travelling. We have a love/hate relationship with social media, depending on how we utilize it, or perhaps how we feel about our own lives pitted against others. We may be swept away by what we see on social media or what we read on the internet, only to realise how far away from the truth everything is. 

I'm guilty of making generatizations all the time, my thoughts on the matter not being an exception. Me writing this is not an attack on my fellow twentysomethings, but a call to self-awareness, being a twenty something myself and guilty of the things I listed above. When I created my blog, I guess I was so obsessed with making my twenties count (thus my blog name, http://www.projectwentysomething.blogspot.com). Looking back, my early twenties were carefree years marked by my time living abroad and living in the moment, where FOMO reigned in most of my decisions. My mid twenties were marked by anxieties - of reconciling who I was, who I am and who I want to be, and humbling myself in the process. Now, I am entering the final leg of my late twenties, facing a career crossroad, and having a daily battle with the slowing speed of my once impressive metabolism. I feel I am past my own quarter life crisis, for now I am at the eye of the storm, where everything is calm inside even when the surroundings appear turbulent. 

Why is it that I am so obsessed with marking what phase of my twenties I am in to begin with? If there's anything this year has taught me, it's that time is but a social construct- a prison we impose on ourselves, as argued by Eckhart Tolle in his famous book, "The Power of Now". There is pressure that comes with achieving this much by this age, and because social media is utilised to advertise our achievements (whether we do it intentionally or not) the pressure we feel is heightened. It's hard to find balance when there is so much noise around, thus the ever so growing popularity of yoga or a "back to basics" lifestyle or patronizing something that connects us with our core selves. The provincial life has never had this much appeal than before, and is the frequent destination when one decides to take some sort of sabbatical from life or from one's demanding career. We have seen this in Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love, where critics are torn between calling the account self-indulgent versus introspective. In all cases, time appears to be suspended - you feel as if time stops and there is no constant rush to be here or do this or that. In all cases, the foe seems to be man's race against the limited time he has on earth. 

Time and anxiety are probably correlated. Anxiety for me is a feeling - a paralysing one. And like most feelings, the more you resist them, the more powerful they get. If you want to get rid of anxiety, or any negative feeling you are dealing with, you have to ride out the feeling. Quit the distractions. Anxiety for me is energy that wants to find release one way or another. Negative thought patterns, looking for an outlet, "release" themselves in the form of back pains, migraines, fidgeting, or an aversion to caffeine. The plus side is that since it looks for an external host, it can be displaced into some other form, such as drawing, writing, or doing sports. Anxiety is a symptom, without a clear root cause. But because the closest way to understanding it is to understand our relationship with time, perhaps the apparent cause could also be the cure. Understand what time is to you. Why you need to rush and achieve this or be this. Understand that the time it takes to deal with anxiety is always relative to the person. There will never be shortcuts, it is just something that you deal with at your own pace. Rushing to be "ok" disrupts the natural cycle of healing that we end up taking longer because we begin with square one, which is denial. 

Free yourself from the prison that is time and live life, regardless of what age you are in. YOLO does not have to mean reckless behaviour; it could simply mean living in the present moment without worrying about the past or future to the point of analysis paralysis. Do everything and associate with who or that which leans towards the good, so that there will not be any form of moral or emotional limbo that breeds anxiety. Above all, be gentle with yourself (a favourite line from the Desiderata) and choose an image of a gentle God or life philosophy that wishes for your genuine happiness. 

Live with these in mind, one day at a time, and watch miracles happen. :)

View from San Juan, Manila, Philippines

Note: This is my first thought blurb in over a year, and I hope to get to write more and share my thoughts. Thank you for reading :)

The Party in Hong Kong

The Party in Hong Kong

Originally published in: We Said Go Travel

Beep beep beep beep beep! The MTR gates shut behind me; my inhibitions waving goodbye from the window of the zooming train. I make my way through the blur of multicolored faces, escalator after escalator, in a concrete underground maze. When I finally reached ground level, the familiar sight of red walls greet me, along with the notorious sign that reads Exit D2. As people zigzag their way into each other, the Chinese characters from the print ads in the subway become a constant reminder of how different this place is from what I am used to.

As my friends and I make our way above ground and take the last step to exit the subway, the humid evening air embrace us as if expecting company. “We have arrived,” my friend said, the twinkle in her hazel eyes unmistakable. We parade into the street, welcomed by the symphony of lights that emanate from buildings, malls and bars just like stars – much like how we feel. Instead of a blare of trumpets, we are greeted by the strangely appealing discordant harmonies of bass drops, car horns, drunken laughter and alien accents. A short uphill trek take us to the heart of the place – a 711 store that both causes and nurses hangovers and broken hearts. And with a few drinks that comprise of a surprisingly pleasant selection of world beers, tropical vodka mixes, mini-wine bottles and the occasional accompaniment of noodle bowls or pork balls, I’m ready for the rest of the night – hopping from one rooftop bar to another, one club to another, one flight of stairs to another, one group of strangers to another, one set or arms to another, one side of myself to another.

Whenever I am here, I forget who I am, or who I am supposed to be. I forget about the things I worry about. I forget about what people expect me to do or how people expect me to behave. I forget the things that hold me back from experiencing life to the fullest. Like my ancestors before me, I just surrender to the rhythm of the night and forget everything but the beating of my own heart.

When you forget everything, all that is left is you. Without the influence of the past or future – it’s just you and the present seeing eye-to-eye. You freely raise your hands up in the air, dance the way you want to, befriend a random stranger, pretend you are royalty, just do what you want to do and feel what you want to feel, even for just a night – spilling over to the next, and the next and the next until life becomes just one grand party you take part of and celebrate.

To feel most alive – that is what freedom means to me. To submit to the senses and silence the mind. To have so much energy to last until sunrise. To be open to all possibilities and not say “I can’t” or “I won’t” because in this place, both do not exist. All that exists is YOU, and that is what matters most in the world.

I found freedom in the rugged rawness that reeks from the streets of Lan Kwai Fong, because this is where, for the first time in my life, I stopped thinking and started being.

What to Expect when Moving Abroad

Have you taken a leap of faith and left everything to move abroad?

Part of what made this time magical was your determination to make things work in your new country. No matter what the costs were. No matter how uncomfortable or lonely it could be. Relive the growing pains of starting over somewhere in the world and laugh about the makeshift life you led as you first transitioned to your new home abroad. 

• You have that nightmare story of your first month living abroad which you laugh and tell your friends about, even if back then all you wanted to do was cry and book a flight ticket back home.
• You most likely ate in Mcdonalds during your first week abroad, where you moped a little because you didn’t know where else to find meat. Or fish.
• You bought the cheapest, most basic cell phone for your local number, even if you owned an Iphone. Because you only used your Iphone when the WiFi was free. And also to take pictures of sunsets. Or your food.
• You attempted to start your nth blog during your first month abroad, and concealed the identities of your new friends via the first letters of their names. Eventually you forgot about your blog and used brunch as your new avenue for emotional catharsis.
• You realized that living with strangers was not too bad after all. And even if your flatmates did end up being a little creepy, you weren’t home most of the time anyway.
• You actually enjoyed going to Ikea. You turned a bedsheet you bought into a makeshift curtain, used those colorful plastic plates and cups when friends came over, and bought a tacky carpet just because. In fact, you sometimes go to Ikea just for the sheer joy of eating their meatballs.
• You didn’t own a television and watched everything from your laptop. In fact, you never even bothered reading a book during your first few months abroad, because your life was too exciting to escape from.
• You learned how to budget by using meals as units in buying clothes (i.e., “that top from H&M is three meals…”).  
• You only ate properly when your family was in town. Otherwise, sandwiches from 711 did the trick.
• You hardly washed your bed sheets. No one knows why but you just didn’t.
• You changed your name at one point or shortened it so locals can pronounce it easily. It’s like having an “English name” of sorts (if you taught ESL in Asia you’ll understand what I mean by this).
• You had a friend who organized everything - from birthdays to hikes to Secret Santa. 
• You also had a friend who knew about all the deals in town (“OMG 2-for-1 happy hour prices lets go NOW!”). More often than not, this friend was female. In fact, the reason you tried Yoga was because of her persistence in selling you the deal on Groupon.
• You only went to a movie theatre for dates or because you could get discounted tickets if you went as a group (again, it’s all about the deals…).
• You had a friend who hosted most of the house parties. He/she was the one who lived farthest away from civilization, but had the most complete kitchen (“OMG you have an oven!”) and the most spacious common area, so you didn’t mind.
• You actually went to the museum for fun, even if you have never been to the one in your own country, except that time you had to go for your primary school field trip.
• You wasted so much time on Skyscanner.com or Zuji.com, comparing flights and strategizing your layover trips. Hopefully, you weren’t the person who’s browser always screwed up the minute he/she was paying for tickets. 
• You locked yourself out (or in) of your flat after going out and slept in your friends place after calling him/her in the wee hours of the morning.
• You Ikea closet consisted primarily of pieces from H&M, Zara and Forever 21, which you can easily spot on the street, because those were the only places you could get “normal” and reasonably priced clothes from.
• You suffered from a bad haircut that cost twice as much as what you got back home because of a language barrier with the hairdresser.
• You organized a pest-control or mold-control operation with your flatmates - gloves and masks and all.
• You fought about doing the dishes with your flatmates. And fought about how one of you did not replace the egg they took. The worst was when the fight was about one of them taking your ice cream without asking permission.
• Your weight fluctuated like crazy, and so did your feelings about dancing to house music (something you used to hate). 
• You religiously Skyped at least once a week with people back home. It was your portal to the alternate universe you left behind, especially if you were in a long distance relationship.
• You secretly liked one of your coworkers / co-exchange participants or they secretly liked you. Because just as your food palette adjusted to the local cuisine, so did your taste for what you found attractive.
• Your definition of the perfect gift was a home cooked meal or a well-chosen book. But giving and receiving gift cards from Zara, H&M, or even Starbucks wasn’t too bad either.
• And lastly, your definition of “luxury” changed while you first moved abroad. Luxury meant upgrading the bananas and apples in your fridge to pomegranates and cranberries. Or spoiling yourself with legit morning coffee. Or buying that sinful cheesecake slice for dessert. But regardless, you learned that best luxuries were usually the simplest of indulgences… it was always having chocolate lying around - for days when you missed home, for days when you said goodbye to another friend or fling, or for days when you just wanted to enjoy that perfect moment of sheer contentment in your own corner of the sky, living life to the fullest in your new home abroad. 

Nom nom nom at my previous workstation