Quarter Life Crisis

Don't get me wrong--I lead a pretty charmed life.

I don't make a lot, but I make enough for a roof, food, and generosity to others. In the end, that's all you really need. I love my family, my housemates are kind are loving, my fiance (yeah I'm engaged now) is a great match for me, my job provides me with financial resources and good friends, Northwest Arkansas (for all its chicken smells and bad cousin-kissin' jokes) is actually a wonderful place to live, and we even are in the process of buying a home.

All good things.

In the quiet moments, though, as I'm responding to emails in my half-cubicle, dressed in a blazer, heels, and slacks, I wonder how I've let myself become myself.

I wrote a poem while in college about flowers and domestication which included the bitter line, "twist me beautiful, make me useful" and the hope that, if the flower were quiet enough, no one would notice its freedom and commandeer it.

Though high-strung, achievement-drivenness is something which has always characterized me, free-spiritedness did as well.

Yes, I scored highly in high school, but I made my final speech colorful and snarky. Yes, I scored highly in college, but I never ceased to attempt to overthrow the academic lead blanket. Even in my Master's program, I combined different subjects, drew from erraticisms, and made brand new arguments. I didn't score high, but I was original.

Barefoot, loose-haired, sun-dressed, sun-kissed, nerdy. I've always struggled with fitting in, but fitting "me" has never felt such a struggle.

I've traded in my whole self it feels like, and I don't fit here in this world.
Is this what every mid-twenties person feels like? Is this growing up, or is this what it feels like to betray your personhood?

I've always believed that God doesn't give us gifts or passions without the desire to use them, but maybe I'm wrong. And, if I were to be honest with myself, I don't even know what a profession selected for my gifts and passions would look like. I've forgotten how to do anything other than waking up, sitting at my desk, going home to Netflix, and falling asleep at a decent hour.

I'm boring.
And everything else sounds absolutely exhausting.
Because, yes, change is at my fingertips.
But I'm tired. I'm in an open-office layout, and my job forces me to be extroverted all day long. No, I don't want to hang out with more humans after work. Perpetual input and output exhausts me for anything other than soul-numbing sitcoms.

We don't work to live; we live to work.

A week or two ago, it was time to decide whether or not to renew my contract. I took multiple skill assessment tests online to see what kind of profession my particular set of differences would make me suited for.

"Craftsman" isn't going to get me far. I'll end up as a John-the-Baptist-in-the-Wilderness type woman with an Etsy store and three teeth.
But would I be happy? Would I feel fulfilled?