20Something: Ellie

(me.)

Without fail, every time I publish a new installment of 20Something, someone DMs me and asks when I’m going to interview myself. (Thank you everyone for fueling my god complex!) The truth is, I haven’t felt qualified to be a subject of this series - I spent the last several months in a sort of career/life goals/what-is-my-purpose purgatory that I don’t think would make particularly engaging material. I’m not fully out of it to be honest, but I’ve done 10 installments on other people over the past year and change, so it feels only right to close this year out on a personal note. You can decide for yourselves before you read any further whether you’d like to sift through another 2500 words of this soliloquy.

If the answers is no, I can’t blame you so here is a TLDR: this year was a rollercoaster, I feel an intense need to find a new life passion but it continues to evade me, female friendships are the epitome of love in your 20s, I’m still a heavy user of run-on sentences, and I think I might start wearing cheetah print again. 

And if you want to stick around for the full shebang - this is 20Something, Episode 11: Ellie. 

I’m beginning this piece on December 14th, 2023. My 26th birthday was 4 days ago, and upon entering the afternoon of my 20s I was immediately overwhelmed with ennui. I’ve spent the past few weeks battling a growing fear that adult life is one of unending mundanity and I will never feel passionate about another endeavor for the rest of my days. I never said I wasn’t a little dramatic. Of course, adult life is filled with plenty of little joyous moments - a girls’ night out, a long walk through the park, a new pair of shoes - but I’ve been wondering: for those of us who left a lifelong endeavor behind in early adulthood, do we ever get a chance to fill the gap it leaves? 

Okay, so we’re off to a depressing start! Stick with me please!

I always begin my interviews by asking my subjects for a summary of their formative years - what were their early interests and hobbies, what did they major in, what kind of life did they picture for themselves? Letting people elevator pitch themselves to me usually gives me a good sense of the kind of expectations they had for their 20s, and the tone in which they do so gives me a good sense of whether those expectations have come to fruition. Me, you ask? For a long time, my expectations were as follows: dance professionally, work as hard as possible, perform as much as possible, and the rest will fall in line. And then there were the injuries, the inescapably toxic environments, the realizations that a life outside of ballet might be healthier, less painful (albeit a bit less exciting), and before I knew it, my slate of expectations was wiped clean, save for one: do well. 

It’s all I’ve ever strove for, really. No matter the endeavor, no matter the environment, no matter the audience. Not succeeding has never been an option I’ve allowed myself. It’s why my departure from ballet has been such a drawn out and tumultuous one - the choice to switch gears was partially my own, partially my body’s (shooting pains through your spine with every landing of a jump might just be an indicator that something is amiss), and yet it felt like a personal failure. I spent my entire life dedicated to a craft to, what, give it up in the eleventh hour? 

If you’ve read any post of mine in the last two years, you’ll know that where I stand on the whole healing-my-ballet-trauma matter ebbs and flows quite frequently. This was more of an ebb year, and I reached an unexpected juncture: I find myself daydreaming (and sometimes even night-dreaming) of being on stage again. I can’t explain it, because it’s not rooted in reality - my back is still messed up, I’ve been out of the game for far too long to pick it back up at a professional level, and even if I could, I have no desire to step back into what was oftentimes a torturous atmosphere. And yet, the minute my ears catch the first eight counts of any piece of Nutcracker music I’m flooded with longing to be cinched into a tutu and blinded by stage lights again. 

I think what I really miss is the sense of accomplishment. I miss when the hours of rehearsal rolled into days, and the days became weeks, and and the weeks became double show days and quick changes backstage and standing tall as the audience cheers through your bows and collapsing in exhaustion as soon as the curtain hits the stage. I haven’t found anything in my post-grad life that brings me that same rush. Sometimes I wonder if the rest of my life will be spent in fruitless pursuit of it. As of late, I’ve been desperately trying to regain some sense of enthusiasm over something, anything, that can serve as a new ambition. Not having one makes life so much less exciting. Perhaps this is what they call a slump. Or perhaps, this is what they call maturing. I sincerely hope it’s not the latter, because that would beg the question: is adulthood simply a slow descent into monotony?  

(This must explain my sudden overwhelming obsession with bows - on days filled with tedium, a little ribbon goes a long way.)

I’m no expert but if I had to guess, I’d hazard that these feelings are amplified by the disarray of my year. Okay, again with the dramatics - “disarray” is a strong word, but this year has been quite the rollercoaster for me. I hope to god it was the last of its kind, but I know it probably won’t be. 

I had an inkling from the start that the year would be a trying one - something about the way “2023” sat in my chest. In fact, I was prepared to be exactly where I am now, writing some kind of year-end reflection, chalking the whole thing up to a bad year and ready to get on with the next. But now I’m here, writing my reflection, and I can’t call it a bad year because it wasn’t. Not exclusively, at least. Like all rollercoasters are wont to do, highs wove themselves in and around the lows, sometimes at a dizzying pace. I’m still trying to make sense of it all, and naturally I’ll be waxing poetic in the process. Naturally.

I think I might have hid the chaos of my year well from people who weren’t in my innermost circles. At least, I hope I did. (If I didn’t, and all of you saw straight through me, please don’t tell me. I’d rather remain blissfully ignorant.) The thought of my well-polished facade slipping for the world to see is truly the stuff of my nightmares. Nonetheless, I’m fessing up now.

I’ll tell you this - if you’re ever feeling a bit bored with life, try quitting a job that you thought was the second coming of your dream job after only four months. Better yet, do it with no backup plan in place. A turbulent tailspin will ensue, I can guarantee it! 

It might look something like this: you’ll immediately question why you even bother to have “dream jobs” anymore, if the only things you’re left with are self-doubt and disappointment. You’ll wonder what you’re ever supposed to do with your life if you aren’t in pursuit of some lofty goal. You’ll spend hours scouring job boards, waiting for something to catch your eye and make your heart race. Maybe you’ll try freelancing for a change, only to discover that a type-A personality and making your own schedule don’t mix so well. You will, however, find a few creative projects that light you up. Those will become your respite from utter boredom for a while. 

You’ll take a few trips, and you’ll admit to yourself that it’s nice to have no deadlines to hit, no meetings to take. But then you’ll return home, and the restlessness will start to creep in again.

And perhaps you’ll suffer from intense writer’s block for months on end, and you’ll wonder why the words won’t come when this is really the only creative outlet you have left and isn’t this supposed to be the thing you’re sort of good at and if that’s true then why does everything you write suddenly feel like a high school essay?? Perhaps you’ll have a menty b or two over it. Perhaps.

So anyway, you’ll try to enjoy the freedom of your schedule, because you know times like this are rare. You’ll force yourself to lean into spontaneity, because when else in your life can you go read on your rooftop in the middle of the day? You’ll laugh at yourself, because reading during the day isn’t even that spontaneous, and what does that say about you, that that’s your idea of adventure? Then you’ll find yourself clutching a sturdy torso, being whisked around on the back of a moped, and you’ll smile to yourself. That’s more like it. And now that you’re so spontaneous, you might also try on nonchalance for a change, only to realize that you do, in fact, prefer chalance. 

You’ll spend more than a few hours letting the feeling of being temporarily directionless sink in. Maybe you’ve spent your whole life being the one in the room with an unwavering sense of direction and purpose. If that’s the case, you might feel like you’ve just careened off the deep end. You might start to keep a tally of all the people that you’re afraid of letting down.

Eventually you’ll land a new job, one that’s not as glamorous as your old job, but it’s much kinder, much more stable, and you’ll let out the breath that you’ve been holding for months. You’ll come away from the whole experience feeling a bit weary, a bit jaded, and much the wiser. 

It might look something like that.

* * * *

Lest you take these words so far to mean that I now exist in a constant state of melancholy: I assure you I do not! Like I said, the highs of the year were as copious as the lows.

Perhaps most importantly, I experienced the beauty of female friendships on a truly unmatched plane. I’ve always been the type to prioritize my friendships, and I’m lucky enough to say I’ve had close friends around me throughout almost every stage of my life, but never quite like this. There’s a group chat that’s always full of Travis Kelce memes and restaurants someone wants to try and “does anyone want to go vintage shopping this weekend? :)” We text each other to check in, and I’m not talking a few times a year - it’s now an entirely normal occurrence to see my phone light up multiple times a week with a text that reads something along the lines of, “Hi! Just checking in to see how you’re doing <3”. We celebrate each others’ successes, we trade advice (sometimes sage, sometimes not), we take weekend trips, we occasionally show up to bars in unintentionally matching outfits. We do all of the things that a group of 20-something girls should be doing, and it is a love like I have never experienced. I’m holding onto this particular bit of life as hard as I can.

On the note of friendship, believe me when I tell you that there are few things that will fill your heart up as much as meeting your best friend’s baby will. I experienced this for the first time a few months ago and can confidently say that nothing compares. One minute we’re ringing in New Year’s Eve in a Boulder frat house and the next, we’re staring down at a tiny human between us. Someone new I’ll get to love and play with and check in on and buy cute outfits for and read books to and the craziest thing is that I’ll get to watch her grow up from scratch. And even crazier than that is that she becomes more and more of her own entity every time I see her. The first time I met her, she could barely hold her head up and she slept in my arms for four hours straight and my butt went numb. The second time I met her, she army crawled her way to me and grabbed tightly onto my fingers and examined my manicure, one nail at a time. Next time I see her, she’ll probably be walking. Life is really mind-blowing sometimes.

And on a less mind-blowing note, I’ve read more than I think I ever have this year. I touched just about every genre, I read books I loved, I read books I hated, and yet my TBR list never seems to shrink. I think reading is my favorite hobby right now, because it’s something you can do whenever and wherever you want. My weekends are best begun when I wake up early and tuck myself into my couch with coffee and a book. I sleep the most peacefully when I put my phone down an hour before I turn off the lights and spend that time reading. I’ve selected a local coffee shop as my Main Character Reading Spot - putting on a good outfit and reading in a big windowside lounge chair is healing to the soul. 

Those are just the major highlights. If I listed every little thing that’s made me smile this year we’d be here for ages, and that’s how I know that the universe is still mostly on my side.

* * * *

So I guess if this year has taught me anything, it’s that the ups and downs of life are rarely mutually exclusive. No season is all one the other. It might mean you need to look a little harder for silver linings from time to time, or you might need to come back down to earth every so often to remind yourself not to take a string of good fortune for granted, but it’s all there when you look for it, muddled together like watercolors.

We don’t have dance performances or college classes or frat parties or graduations to motivate us forward anymore. We have to go out and find hobbies, plan girls’ nights, take ourselves on hot girl walks, organize book clubs, bat our eyes at cute boys in bars, make Pinterest boards like our lives depend on it, watch sunsets from rooftops, check in on our friends, let our friends check in on us. We have to allow life to wash over us, appreciate the moments that are good, and learn from those that aren’t. 

As the year comes to a close and I do my required year-end reflections, I’ll admit there are glimpses of excitement on the horizon. Right now they’re small moments - a Pinterest pin here, a line of a book there - but they exist nonetheless. In typical Ellie fashion, I’ll leave you with a list of those things:

• Cheetah print (I might eat my words on this one, but there’s something about a cheetah print pant with an otherwise-neutral outfit that sets my heart aflutter)

• My ever-growing TBR list

• Europe. I think I’ll try Lisbon this year, or maybe the South of France. 

• Wales Bonner Sambas (must get my hands on the silver ones!!)

• Well-written books

• “But in a solitary life, there are rare moments when another soul dips near yours, as stars once a year brush the earth.” (Madeline Miller, Circe)

• I think I’ll plan a Galentine’s Day slumber party

• My “nail inspo” saved folder and all the manicures that will be born from it

• The knowledge that my favorite farmer’s market is only a few months away

• Winter peonies from Trader Joes

Actually, I’ll leave you with the speed round that I end all of my interviews with. The answers to these questions really tell me everything I need to know about you. Here is a glimpse into me:

Favorite color?

Light blue or light pink, depending on my mood.

Go-to karaoke song?

Anything ABBA or Lady Gaga.

Books or movies?

Come on now. Books.

You have 10 seconds to order a drink at a bar, what are you ordering?

Tequila soda, orange slice if they have it, lime if they don’t.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

Kinder, more adventurous, more creative, more sure of myself.

It’s worth noting that it is now December 29th. My thoughts needed quite a few days to take shape, I guess. Like I said, ennui.

xo, E