Quarter-Life Crisis

Writing this blog is not just about examining what it means to be a young wife, it's also about delving into what it means to be 25. Right now, the cliched quarter-life crisis seems to be plaguing me and many of my 20-something friends. 

Whether it's our romantic relationships, friendships or careers, it's just a really confusing time - almost like a second adolescence. It's a struggle between wanting to maintain our carefree youthfulness, and simultaneously wanting to progress into full-fledged adulthood - which could mean getting married, having kids, finding the right career, or all of the above.

For me, the right career thing rings a bell.

I'm so eager to find the job of my dreams, and since I've already found the man of my dreams I just have more time to obsess over what I truly want out of my career.

Currently, I'm a copywriter/editor in the marketing department of a real estate firm. I've been there for 2.5 years, and am learning a lot and growing personally and professionally. I love the people I work with and for the most part, I really like what I do because I'm writing and editing. But, I'd be lying if I didn't say something's missing.

It's like when you know you've found THE ONE. However contrived it sounds to say this...you just know. And I feel like that may be the case when it comes to finding the right job, the right career path...you just know.

I'm having all sorts of doubts and insecurities, yet there's a part of me that's complacent - not necessarily a good or bad thing. Sometimes I think - I love writing, and this is what I want to do for the rest of my life. Other times, I think I want to make a drastic change, like going back to school to be a therapist or an interior designer.

I just always thought that at this point in my life I would know exactly what I want to do...and I really don't. I feel like it would be a shame to waste all of the experience I've acquired as a writer - plus, it's a lot easier to stick with what you know and what you're relatively good at, instead of starting with a clean slate, a blank resume.

I guess it's kind of like staying in a relationship you know isn't quite right because you're too afraid to find out what else is out there...because what if there isn't anything else out there? What if there's nothing better? Nothing more?

I know I'm not the only one who feels this way, so I guess there's some comfort in not being all alone in my quarter-life confusion. But it doesn't change the fact that I feel like I'm waiting for that moment when it all becomes clear, and I suddenly know what I want to do and what I'm meant to do.

Until then, I'm going to keep digging deep and asking myself and those who know me best what they think my next step should be. I know I'm young and I don't need to find my destiny right at this moment, but I'd kind of like it to find me. Especially now when it's just me, Brian and Gordon...no kids or huge financial responsibilities weighing us down.

If you have any tips or advice, your feedback is always welcome! Us quarter-lifers need all the guidance we can get.

Don't Hate The Player, Hate The Gaming

I'd like to take this opportunity to walk you through a "Honey, I'm home" scenario I encounter quite frequently upon entering the Johnson household.

Me: "Honey, I'm home!" (or some variation of that)

Gordon: Barks and wags his tail incessantly and/or runs and jumps up to greet me with kisses as I walk into the house (aren't dog's just wonderful?).

Brian: Sounds of bombs and bullets from Call of Duty coming out of the office, yet nothing coming out of his mouth. (If it wasn't for the loud shooting, I wouldn't even know he was there!)

Depending on what mood I'm in, I'll eventually walk to Brian's desk, where he is firmly (sometimes seemingly permanently) planted in front of his computer, and I'll greet him with a big fat kiss - that's when I'm in a good mood. I might also make him feel guilty for not dropping everything when I walk through the door to, at the very least, give me a hug. But he knows, I'm just teasing (kind of).

Well, the other day I was clearly not in the mood to be ignored.

I decided that when he didn't respond to my "Honey, I'm home" call, I would punish him with the silent treatment. I had resolved not to speak to him until I was finally spoken to.

That resulted in us not talking for a whopping 20 MINUTES!

I was fuming - blood boiling, anger rising in my chest with each passing second.

When I get in these fits (which can usually only be brought on my my mom and bros *I love you guys though* and now my husband), I begin to ruminate on all of the other latent frustrations I haven't addressed because they were no big deal at the time...until now, when my inner bitch is unleashed!

I started to get angry that Brian hadn't been pitching in with our household duties as much, especially cooking. We had been getting into a routine of me shopping for, planning and preparing every meal with no extra assistance from the hubs. And, I'm actually happy to take care of most of the meals because he needs me to when he's working late, and who doesn't love to be needed and help out their loved ones in any way they can?

HOWEVER, if he's playing video games when I get home, it would be nice for him to press pause and have dinner ready or at least in prepping stage, so we can finish it up together.

We both work hard, we both have full time jobs, so we both have to pitch in.

If I was a Real Housewife of Fountain Valley, with nothing to do but get pampered and gallivant about town with Gordon and my girlfriends, then I would have no problem whatsoever keeping up the household by myself. But, alas, I am pretty freiken far from living the RHOFV lifestyle, so Brian and I have to share the responsibilities that come with making sure we have a healthy, happy home and a healthy, happy family. At least until I'm able to become a RHOFV.

Anywhoo, back to why I wrote this blog post in the first place.

So, 20 MINUTES of silence and simultaneous blood boiling later, Brian finally comes in the bedroom, where I'm gathering up the ever-growing pile of laundry, and he has the nerve to say, ever so sweetly – as if I hadn't been home for a WHOLE 20 MINUTES before he acknowledged my existence – "Hi Babe! How are you, my love?"

Sorry bubs, that greeting was oh about 20 MINUTES too late.

I try to resist the urge to instantly forgive and forget as he showers me with I'm sorry sweetness. And, I didn't give in (self high five!). Instead, I explained to him that he:

a) Needs to at least respond to me when I come home - no need to leave his chair

AND

b) Needs to get back on track with helping me around the house, especially when it comes to cooking and especially if he wants a little more variety than what I've been serving up.

See, since I now control the vast majority of our meals, about 95% of them consist of Trader Joes frozen fare. They're easy, they're tasty and they're low in Weight Watchers points, so I can eat them on the daily.

But, I imagine - since he grew up with delicious food prepared by his Martha Stewart-like mother, he wouldn't mind mixing things up a bit.

It's a week later now, and I'm seeing small but promising changes in hub's behavior. He brought dinner in for us last Wednesday, mowed the lawn on Sunday and walked Gordon and emptied the dishwasher last night.

We're learning (as many married couples tend to do) that everything in our lives must be a team effort. Besides, we work better when we're working together.

Also, another important takeaway for you husbands out there, don't forget the age-old but ever-true adage: Happy Wife, Happy Life!