Twenty-something Diaries

Chapter 1, Part 1: Existential crisis, adulting and wine

I was in the supermarket holding a bottle of red wine, pasta, a bunch of tomatoes, chips, and a bar of chocolate, when existential crisis hit me. I was ready to pay and go to my uncle's apartment where I was staying alone as a getaway from major depressive phase. While I was standing in front of the chips aisle with the wine bottle under my arm, I thought "is it adulting?" Going home alone for a movie night with homemade pasta and wine? In the sound of my short and comfortable heels, I felt the glance of adulting shine over me. The glance of light which lived shorter than the light speed. I quickly came back to my reality: What adulting are you talking about? You are 24, unemployed, never worked in your life. You probably will do nothing with your degree. You are in depression, feeling lonely, and shopping with your long-distance husband's money. Do you feel like an adult? Definitely, not. Do you feel like a broken twenty-something in existential crisis? Hell yes!

Couple of hours ago, I finished Dolly Alderton's "Everything I know about love". The book filled my heart with warmth and familiarity. Her failed relationships, eating disorder journey, conversations with her therapist were all relatable. I enjoyed reading about her growth, as well as intimate articulation of what she was going through. It was all so real. On the romantic relationship side, I felt luckier. That I found the love of my life at 22, from and with whom I was learning about love. If it was not for him, I wouldn't be any better than Dolly in romantic relationships. However, friendships were what I envied Dolly for. Not leaving your girl friend alone for a night after a major breakup, or talking openly about your thoughts when your friend screws up – the friendship type I envied and lacked.

While I was walking back home, I realized there was no corkscrew to open the wine. First thought came to mind was to call my sweet hubby and share this moment with him with the excuse of asking how to open the bottle. That thought quickly faded away. After all, I shouldn't need to share each and every moment emphasizing how I didn't have anyone else to talk to. So as every grown-up, I searched YouTube: how to open wine bottle without a corkscrew. There it was! After the first video, I was with all my seriousness sticking a knife into the cork while my pasta was boiling. It took me only a few magical seconds to turn the knife around clockwise and open the wine. Excitedly I took two pictures: one with knife sticking inside the bottle, another one with the knife stabbing the cork like marshmallow hanging on a stick. To whom was I going to send it? I thought: my hubby! But, only in the next morning. Because I should have spent that night by myself, feeling comfortable with my own existence, and without the need to share anything with anyone. Well? After an hour, I wanted to call him and just quickly show the bottle, exchange a few laughs before carrying on with my night. Of course, he was not available. When he only picked up to say he was with his mate and would call me later, I felt regret for calling. I felt greedy, needy, and lonely. I shouldn't have called. I should have just been fine with being on my own. I should have had a friend to share.

Where was my sense of self? Why couldn't I be just fine with being with myself?