How I Became a Boomerang Kid

My position in life is not unique. A large number of American college graduates have (uncharacteristically) moved back into their parents' homes due to the abysmal performance of the job market. Like me, many of them are full of mixed feelings, alternately embarrassed, comfortable, depressed, numb, and hopeful for the future. However, each of us has a different journey toward a renewed declaration of our personal independence.

I have been told time and time again that this should be the happiest time of my life. "When I was your age, I didn't have anything to be anxious about!" "You're young. You should be enjoying your life!" "Your generation whines too much." You know what? Fuck those people. Yes, I said it. I've had fun in my young life, occasionally too much fun for my own good. However, ask most twenty-somethings: overall, we are not happy. Youth is full of turmoil, as are current events, and we are just trying to begin our lives.

From a different and, from my observations, more accurate perspective, I've been told by many forty-somethings who haven't whitewashed their memories that their lives are far better now than they were at 25. Most quarterlifers will eventually find jobs, long-term relationships, and hobbies that might mean happiness. Currently, though, many of us feel distinctly stuck in circumstances that are largely out of our control, and it sucks.

Ending up back in my parents' house resulted from a buildup of events going back several months from the time I moved. In February, I began the process of applying to Teach for America. After putting in much effort, I was rejected in April. This rejection was a landmark in my young life because it was my first major job rejection. I had never had a problem getting hired prior to Teach for America.

Although it rocked my sense of self to the core, the rejection did not come as a surprise. In fact, I had been surprised to be granted a personal interview after an awkward and uncompelling phone interview. Unfortunately, there were still terrible consequences to finding out absolutely 100% for certain that I, a heretofore successful (if anxiety-ridden) 24 year old graduate student, would be moving back to a much-maligned, podunk West Texas town to live with my parents. I did not even finish the research paper for a class I loved prior to experiencing a slightly-more-than-minor breakdown right at the end of the spring semester. I was a walking, breathing anxiety attack waiting to happen unless I had taken a double dose of Nyquil just to be able to sleep for awhile. I alternated between numbly watching television and having colossal freak out moments.

On June 1, 2011, I moved back into my parents' house after six years out of it. Things haven't been entirely what I expected. If I am honest with myself and others, this is what I needed to improve both my financial situation and my mental health. Ups and downs - I got 'em. This is my forward path.