Get A Life #1: I don’t have a personal life

How can I be at such a loss as to what the hell to do with myself?

I’ll be 29 in June, and I have no personal life.

To be fair, I used to have a personal life—filled with the folly of my late teens and early twenties, wrapped around the finger of some guy, getting into hoodrat shit, taking the long way around the mountain for my English degree.

Looking back, it didn’t happen slowly over time, but I was primed for a case of anxious agoraphobia when lockdown happened. On top of that, I have been working from home since before the pandemic.

And while there is a lot to be grateful with my work situation, I repeatedly find myself in a rut. I’ve been working on getting out of the house a few times throughout the week, but it’s been a challenge to actually accomplish some work on my laptop at a coffee shop or not just end up shopping when I don’t really need to.

Going to the store is one of the only reasons I have to leave the house these days.

And those days blend together and feel incomplete when I’m at home day in and day out.

What used to be a dream of freedom to relax and indulge in creative space and time at home has dissolved into monotony, dipping a toe into the depressive well every now and then.

The craziest thing I’ve experienced lately…the sheer and utter boredom I’ve been bumping into when my work is all caught up and there are no new YouTube videos or shows I have to watch.

How can I be at such a loss as to what the hell to do with myself?

My Killer Coaching Career

From the time I was about 22 to 25, I was a part of the coaching and spirituality community, a wannabe convinced that my destiny to break away from the traditional path was to start a coaching business.

I never had a client. Thank god.

My sense of community at the time was a handful of women I would workshop, brainstorm, talk through ideas about my niche, my tagline, what would set me apart from other coaches.

The idea of coaching was seductive because it was a way to blend my work life with my personal life because I wanted control over my time and value.

It’s kind of unbelievable to look back at late teens and early 20s when I was often working two jobs at a time. I think at one point I was technically working three jobs.

I worked at Best Buy for several years, mostly in a customer service position, but never chosen for a leadership role. I was a bit intense back then, often taking things too personally whether it was a conflict with a customer or a coworker. Too emotional. It was a weakness to not leave your troubles at the door when you clocked in.

But I found language to justify my next move and leave the hourly job game to seek out something more entrepreneurial: I take things personally because it is personal to me. I care deeply about what I’m doing and who I’m working with. It’s not a weakness, it’s my superpower.

There may be a level of merit in that notion in the sense of offering my younger self compassion and grace while she learned to chill the fuck out.

“I take things personally because it is personal to me. That’s why I should be a coach.”

It’s a dangerous line of thinking with the momentum that swallowed my sense of value and purpose in one fell swoop, blurring the line of what I do with who I am.

It killed my motivation to invest in anything for myself that wouldn’t move the needle on my work.

New Year, New Groove

Fast-forward a few years, I have long since left behind that community and some of those friends who have changed paths as well.

Without mentally ruminating much longer on the past two years, I will tell you it chalks up to healing.

I have done my fair share of healing, spiritual growth, confronting my trauma and shadows and the daddy issues. I’m sick of the drumroll, and I’m tired of “healing.”

Healing or self-improvement is a great thing, but at some point, I got caught in the state of buffering.

I’ve seen a few people on TikTok talk about healing their inner child or their inner teenager. What about holding space for the person I am right now?

What about being radically present and curious and compassionate for the woman whose life looks nothing like she thought it would but is—despite the world burning, the numbers in the bank account, the shitty van to drive, and a million other things—ultimately happy?

I am happy with the direction I’m going. I am excited to see where I end up next. But my life can’t just be what I do for work or the world or for money.

I don’t want my groove back, I want a new one that shines and sings with who I am now.

I want spontaneity and structure, rest and discipline, leisure and adventure.

It’s funny, I’m just now making the connection with a sentiment I’d often share as a tarot reader or amongst woo-friends: You gotta fill your cup so it can overflow into everything else.

Will cultivating and nourishing my personal life outside of my craft in turn make me a better writer, creator, collaborator, partner?

Yeah, maybe, probably.

Whatever the fuck happens, I’m just tired of telling myself to wait.

This is the first of many more essays to come about figuring out what the hell I want to do to enrich my personal life.

I hope you stick around. And while you’re here, tell me about your relationship between your work, your sense of self, and your personal life.

I bet five bucks I’m not the only one.