The Twenties: A Millennial Girl's Misadventures

From One Millennial to Another

Synopsis

Transitioning to adulthood is anything but smooth sailing for Elise, freshly 18 and feverishly wide eyed, but ready to plunge into college. She is eager to leave her awkward adolescence behind and adopt open arms to new experiences and adventures to broaden her once narrow horizons. Elise finds herself distracted by the men that enter her life, discouraged by broken promises and seemingly impossible to reach goals. Navigating school, work, friends and family prove tough when resources are limited and the person holding her back, is herself. Issues of self-esteem, confidence, anxiety and hopelessness hinder Elise in her quest for financial independence and love. Her once decisive life plan is turned upside down constantly and the 'light at the end of the tunnel' she chases keeps moving forward. She knows what she must do-learn from her mistakes and make better choices, but it's much easier said than done. Will the reality of life's challenges and troubled relationships break her spirit? Or is she able to find the inner strength to run onward and look inward?

Prologue

I used to dream about and try to envision what love would be like when I was younger. I would read romance novels by Nora Roberts and Nicholas Sparks. You know, the ones where the coy, understated woman would be pursued by the handsome, wealthy man who, after 'getting to know her' is taken with her sass, intelligence and beauty. Then they get married and have babies, and she's basically rich and stress free from that point on. A happy ending tied up with a pretty bow. They sell us this crap as children too. We are read stories like The Ugly Duckling and think,"Oh,wow! So all of this torture going through awkward stages and puberty will all be worth it in the end when I'm suddenly gorgeous and fabulous! Then they'll all realize how stupid they all were for doubting me!"

I thought because it was taking me a long time to shed my awkwardness, that when the time came it would be extra special for me, that I somehow would 'deserve' that. The more pain the more glory, right? Well that was crap too. Listening to songs like Incubus' Drive while crying into a pillow allowed me to release my inner sense of sorrow. I truly believed at any moment life would just magically turn around or something would fall into my lap. I was kind of a Daria from MTV, a sarcastic biting humor that came from constantly feeling jipped, so I'd throw my hate at others who were handling it all better than I was. The more 'happy go lucky' popular types. I lived in a second reality where I immersed myself in fantasies, reminiscent of "She's All That" where the girl with glasses and loose clothes suddenly becomes hot when she loses the glasses and puts on a red mini dress. I lived vicariously through these unveilings because I was the dork. I held hope that one day I could shed my ugly duckling exterior when I could spread my wings and not be so confined to the ways of grade school where shallow girls got the cute guys.

Without thought or hesitation I bolted towards the nearest exit. My feet acted instinctively and it would be a while before my head caught up to them. There I was in my pajamas- consisting of an oversized tee that was in one of those 5k grab bags and soft fleecy bottoms covered with fluffy clouds. I had on socks, but no shoes. That was it. I fled into the dark rain and ran past each house, I couldn't go back. My best friend lived a good 10 miles away so once I made my way out of my neighborhood I slowed down to a brisk walk heading down the main road towards her house. I was sopping wet and my socks were drenched in mud. I made a promise to myself in that moment that would be the last time I would subject myself to violence.

That night would signify the culmination of my childhood. To know me, is to know where I came from and where they came from and so on and so forth. I am the product of teen pregnancy to two people who were intelligent and ambitious. It's not often that high school sweethearts stay together, but they did for a long time. My parents were dead set on proving to the world they could do this with little to no help, government or family. The word 'high strung' would perfectly define them and the way they chose to parent me and my sister. I don't think they even liked kids. All that aside, years and years of stress, arguing and fights took its toll and they divorced when I was 17. I chose to live with my dad and my sister lived with my mom and they each got their own separate apartments. Instead of this idyllic life they thought they had created for their little nuclear family in Tampa, FL with a nice middle-class house complete with a pool, their vision melted into a white trash existence. It had been that way all along, but in their minds on the outside they were portraying a different picture.