A Short Guide To Having It All By The Time You’re 30
Today is October 3.
October 3 is a day, that in history books, is relatively unimportant. Save for some great games and moments in sports history, Sinead O’Connor tearing up a picture of the Pope on national television, and O.J. Simpson being acquitted of two murders, October 3 is a day relatively void of any significance.
Today, though, took on new significance for me. Today, I realized that save for some surprise I’m currently unaware of, I will not be a mother by the time I’m 30. Save for something short of a miracle, or a Britney Spears Vegas-style wedding, I will not be wed by the time I’m 30.
The fact that this is an item of significance may seem surprising to anyone who knows me. It would seem surprising, because I’ve spent the bulk of my life focused upon academics and career success rather than expressing the desire to or actually building a family.
But, like everyone else, I want it all. I want a job that I love that brings home a solid paycheck. I want a warm home and pretty things. I want cool friends and fun endeavors. I want to be able to travel and have adventures. I want a story to tell. And I want a husband and some babies to rock. And maybe a Golden Retriever. However, because of my allergies, a Golden Doodle may be preferable.
There, I said it.
I want every, little, teeny-tiny ounce of it all.
Society, though, has this nasty little way of telling us that we–men and women alike–cannot have it all. It whispers in our ear doubts. It says, “How are you going to manage a demanding career that you love–and ghasp–a family?!” It says, “How are you going to be a strong woman and obey by your husband?” It says, “How are you going to be a breadwinner and have time to be a dad?” It says, “How do you live your values when you blow your paycheck on a Marc Jacobs bag?”
If there was a place called Buzzkillville, Society would be the president.
For the bulk of my life, my attempt at gaining it all was mostly focused on my career, while my family, friends and anything mirroring a relationship waited in the wings. As I write this, I’m 29-years-old and a full-time professor at the University of Miami. I graduated from law school cum laude and am licensed to practice law in two states. I write for two national media outlets and have standing appearances on radio and television shows nationwide. To quote the ever-popular 50 Cent hit, In Da Club, “I’m fully focused man, my money on my mind.”
The approach to life I took in my 20s was one I see many of my peers taking: I was selfish. Really, really selfish.
At 22, my selfish spirit took me to California–1,000 miles away from home–exactly one month after my mother had a heart attack and had to be shocked back to life. Most 22-year-olds aren’t focused upon the preciousness of life and how it can be swept away in a split second. Given that I fell into the “most 22-year-olds” category, I had no problem packing my bags for California, because California meant law school. To me, law school appeared to be the easiest path to having it all.
In California, law school became my life. In my selfish way, I wanted to be the best at it. So, I secluded myself from friends in a way that I had never done. I became one with my books. Namaste. Professors said that the key to success in law school was being invited to join the law review. I wanted success, so I wanted to be ranked in the top-10 percent of my class so that I would be invited to join law review. So, study I did and a social life I alienated and law review I joined. We can talk about how much fun law review is another time.
At 24, I graduated from law school near the top of my class. Two months later at 25, I sat for the California bar examination. The day after it ended, the selfish chains wrapped around me began to loosen their grip.
After you sit for a bar examination, you want to do one or both of two things: Go home and sleep and/or party. I went home and slept after the test ended on Thursday afternoon. I was looking forward to partying that Friday night. But my mom called. And was in a panic. My dad was in the hospital. He hadn’t eaten in days. He looked terrible. Doctors were scared that his cancer had come back and spread. This could be it.
Between the ages of 22 and 25, my brain had matured some and I realized the preciousness of life and just how short it is. I called my friends and said I wouldn’t be able to make it to Newport Beach’s famed Woody’s Wharf that night (yes, Chuck Norris once owned this seaside dive bar). Instead, I haphazardly packed a bag, got in my Honda Civic and hit the rode for the fourteen-hour drive to Denver.
I wanted it all. I wanted success. I wanted a strong social life. I wanted family.
And when my car hit the parking lot at Lutheran Hospital and I rushed upstairs to sit by my dad’s bedside, I slowly began to realize how I could have it all.
As I approach my 30th birthday in June, I know now that getting everything you want in life is about balance. If you want it all–whatever that means to you–you have to make room for it all. If you don’t make room for it all, then it should come as no surprise that you don’t have it all.
Why am I going to turn 30 and be unmarried and without child? Because my prior definition of “having it all” was unbalanced. For the last decade, I have focused upon building a career. And that focus, has bore significant fruit. I am proud of it. I am happy with where I am. I am grateful for it. Truth be told, I probably would change very few things about my 29 years of life.
During these years, though, time seeking love lost out. I’ve dated a who’s-who list of men throughout my 20s (however, Where’s Waldo? might be a better analogy for some of them). There have been professional athletes, actors and coaches. There have been great men and the shadiest men to ever walk the face of earth (you know who you are). There have been men who were solid lovers and friends and others I should have ran from at the get-go. The reason, though, why none of these relationships worked from my end, is that they were never a great enough part of my focus. Hanging onto them wasn’t my greatest priority. Rather, building what I thought defined “success” in my life was. Now, though, I can realize how that approach was misguided.
How, then, can late-20-somethings and early-30-somethings work to have it all?
It’s about balance. And practice. And patience. And forgiving yourself for what you did or didn’t do in the past.
Recently, I made a list of my priorities for my life going forward. These things were on the list:
-Be a better daughter
-Be a better friend to more people
-Develop a stronger relationship with God
-Focus more upon physical fitness and health
-Be open to new romantic relationships
-Develop a legacy of giving to others
-Maintain the pace of your career
Those seven things add up to “having it all” for me. For a person who not only teaches at a top-50 university, but also writes for two major news organizations, how do I balance all of these things so that I can become whole in my own eyes? As my mom has always said, “Practice makes perfect” and “patience is a virtue.”
It takes time to become whole. Being whole is another way to say, “having it all.”
Just because you spent the entirety of your 20s focusing upon one or several of the things on your “having it all” list doesn’t mean you failed. But, to gain it all, you need to reassess where you are with each item on your list. Is it time to refocus your energy from one item to another? Can you take a break from something to build up another area of your life?
One of my favorite childhood books, The Velveteen Rabbit, perhaps sums it up the best: “‘It doesn’t happen all at once,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept.'”
I may not be a mother by the time I’m 30. Heck, I may not even be a mother by the time I’m 40! (Luckily, my maternal grandmother didn’t give birth to her first child until she was nearly 41–and that was in 1948! So, with the help of good genes and improved technology, that may be feasible–albeit not preferable–for me). Chances are, I won’t dance my first dance with my husband by the time I’m 30. The state of affairs now says that I might not even know him.
But, I’m becoming. I’m becoming closer to “having it all.”
And it’s only because it doesn’t happen all at once. Understanding that, my friends, is the key to having it all.
Todd Helton Got A Horse
Sports is a dominating force in the Jessop household. As an only child, I became the son my dad never had. Except I wore dresses, was a cheerleader and in a sorority. However, when it came to talking sports, I could hold my own.
My mom, on the other hand, although she tolerates my dad and my affinity for sports, well, doesn’t get it.
Earlier, the Colorado Rockies gave Todd Helton a horse to commemorate his last home game as a member of the organization. This gesture, while lighting up the internet, also spurred one of the best conversations EVER.
*Phone rings*
“Hello?”
“Hey, mom. Did you see that the Rockies gave Todd Helton a horse?!”
“A HORSE?! Like a real, live horse?”
“Yea, a real, live horse.”
“Did they give him a horse trailer?”
“No idea.”
“Well how is he going to get the horse home?”
“I have no idea.”
“Did it come with a saddle?”
“Actually, yea, I saw that the horse was wearing a Rockies saddle.”
“A ROCKIES SADDLE?! Where is the horse going to live?”
“I have no idea.”
“Did Todd tell them he wanted a horse?”
“Mom, I really have no idea about any of this. All I know is they got the dude a horse. You live in a cowboy state.”
“Maybe they got it for him because he got that DUI. You know, so he could ride a horse home instead of driving?”
Christine Jessop, ladies and gentlemen.
A video from the Colorado Rockies of Todd, getting said horse:
Seasons
As the pages of the calendar slip away and the end of the year inches closer, I am always hit with a reminiscing spirit.
Fall is my favorite season of the four. The crisp weather (albeit not found in Miami) has a lot to do with that. So do Pumpkin Spice lattes. And college football.
At the end of the day, though, fall holds a special spot in my heart because of the memories etched in my mind that were made in this season. Memories from a time when life was simple, pure and free. Memories that for so long, I didn’t think could be beat.
Each year when the calendar pages turn to fall, I get a tinge in my heart. For some reason, my mind goes into overdrive and memories that are nicely packed away for nine months out of the year spill out into the forefront of my thoughts.
September brings thoughts of a girl who had just barely turned 18. She was as pure as pure could be, with the greatest of hopes and the boldest of dreams. Her desires came from a place of the heart, where all she really wanted to do was be nice to people and help others. All she was looking for in others was that they were nice to others. And if you were funny, that was a perk.
She woke up early every Saturday morning with a smile on her face. She’d get herself up out of bed and happily prance around in front of the mirror primping. Makeup had to be applied as well as she could at that age. She’d patiently tie ribbons in her hair after pulling on her carefully pressed cheerleading uniform.
She was living the all-American dream. Saturday afternoons in the fall are meant to be spent with college football. And she had a sideline pass.
Her imagination was over-active. So on the short walk from her dorm to the football field, she would let it wander. She’d laugh to herself about the antics of the night before. The fraternity parties and the silly boys. The games played, the friends made. She’d raise her hopes for the night ahead. And most of all, she’d wonder, will life will ever feel like this again?
For four years, Saturday mornings in the fall were my favorite. They were my favorite, because they were spent doing what I loved. I was surrounded by my friends. My parents were in the stands. I was watching great games unfold before my eyes. And for two of those years, I had my eyes on someone who captured my heart better than anyone else.
Each Saturday as I made my way to the football stadium, I’d hold my breath waiting for the moment that Scott would take a break from practicing kicking footballs, turn around and look me in the eye. He’d get this big grin that would take up the bulk of his face and his lanky 6’7″ frame would kind of slunch over. In his deep but self-conscious voice, he’d mutter, “Hey, Alicia!” It was enough to make my heart beat harder than it should’ve. I’d don my coy smile and in a shy voice shout, “Good luck!” I’d then promptly twirl around, grab my pom-poms and erupt into the biggest smile as I broke into dance for the school song.
It was simple. It was pure. It was life. It was good.
In those moments, I was convinced that life wouldn’t get better.
It’s been ten years since I’ve had one of those moments.
That 19-year-old girl is now 29-years-old. And single. And re-entering the world of dating. In short, I am searching for a spark. I’m searching for the person who when I turn away, I can’t help but smile.
I was sitting in line at a drive-thru Starbucks yesterday, waiting to order my first Pumpkin Spice latte of the season. “I Go Back” by Kenny Chesney came on the radio. I go back to the feel of a 50-yard line…wishing time would stop right in its tracks.
I went back. To the night at his fraternity party we spent all night one-upping each other with dance moves. I was 5’4″ and on crutches. He was 6’7″ and able-bodied. He would duck down to dance with me, occasionally picking me up to twirl me around. He may not have won the dance contest, but he won my heart.
I went back to the night I proudly held his hand as my chatty self worked my way through the party. He was my loyal companion. My friends still laugh about how I went up to nearly everyone at that party and said, “This is Scott!” I have never been so proud to be by someone’s side.
I went back to that July afternoon when I was standing in an aisle. I remember saying, “What?” I remember saying, “Are you sure? Maybe it’s a mistake.” I remember leaving all of the items in my basket haphazardly in the aisle and rushing to my car. I don’t remember unlocking it. I don’t remember getting in. I do remember sitting at a stop light for far too long and people honking. I couldn’t stop crying. Scott was gone. He had died in a car accident.
For so long, I never thought I could feel for someone the way I felt for Scott. Sure, there were other people who floated in and out of my life after he left this earth. But none of them captured my spirit. They were placeholders.
As I walk away from the first person who had even a remote chance of capturing my heart the way Scott did, I’ve lamented to friends my fear that my heart would never feel the same again. I convinced myself that my heart was preparing for its own personal winter.
Lately, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about seasons. And how each portion of our life’s journey is its own season. I find winter dreadful. I do not bear the cold well. I am not enchanted by snow. I do not find the mystique in hot cocoa and being bundled up.
Yet, every year, winter comes. And I maneuver my way through it. I adapt. I dress warmer. I drive slower. I buy salted caramel hot cocoa at Starbucks.
And before I know it, spring is here. With newness, life and sunshine. It brings with it a message of hope and new opportunities. It is a kind reminder that you have made it through the storm and life can begin again.
I’m at a place right now, where life is beginning again. My winter is ending, and although the calendar says it’s fall, it is springtime in my life.
There is opportunity. There is a promise that even though the loves of my past are gone, that new ones will come when the season is right. Winter isn’t permanent. It is temporary.
Recognizing the seasons of life has allowed me to enjoy the moment better. Yes, there are moments when I still long for yesterday. Even at 29, living in the most beautiful condo in Miami and working a dream job, there are moments where I want to run away and be that 19-year-old dancing around on a sideline.
Time, though–and the passing of seasons–has taught me better. What I’ve realized, is that it is more important to long for tomorrow. So today, I hope for the promise of the future and am grateful for a past that has taught me to do so.
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How To Prepare For A Career Fair
Later this week, the University of Miami is hosting its first on-campus career fair. I remember as a collegiate being confused about what I was supposed to do at such events. I knew I was supposed to show up in a suit and with a handful of resumes. After that, though, I was a fish out of water. Recognizing this, I built this short presentation with some tips on how to approach a career fair. It can be utilized by students and also professionals who are attending similar events.
Fear
For much of my life, there’s been very little that I’ve feared.
This statement is probably best depicted by the years I spent living in southern California. One of my best girl friends in southern California is a celebrity publicist for a pretty impressive list of clients. As such, many of my evenings in my early 20s were spent going to red carpet events laden with everything from A-listers to C-listers to really disastrous reality TV “stars.”
When I began going to these events, my friend that I would go with and I would generally hang out and be low key in the back of whatever store or space the party was overtaking. Our general thought was, “We sure don’t belong here. We better not make ourselves noticeable.” To put it mildly, we were afraid that someone would catch onto our being there and quickly escort us out, much to our embarrassment.
After attending a few of the parties, though, something struck me: Nobody else in this place realizes that we are a) not celebrities and b) probably not supposed to be here. Like them, we had traversed the red carpet. Like them, we had passed through the velvet ropes. Like them, our name was checked off the list (albeit from the bottom of the list).
Given these realizations, I quickly realized that our “back of the house” antics were anti-productive. I noticed that we were missing some key opportunities to network with powerhouses in the entertainment industry because of our mere fear to approach them.
One day, as we were driving to some party for Guess!, I broached the subject of just chatting up the celebrities at these parties with my friend that I would go to them with. As she should’ve, she thought my idea was crazy. However, I was fearless. So, after we passed over the red carpet and through the velvet ropes into the Guess! store on Rodeo Drive, I began making my rounds. I chatted up Marc Jacobs. I grabbed the arm of one of the Marciano brothers and we discussed his latest designs as I mused about “just how fabulous the spring 2009 collection” was. I may or may not have had a terribly awkward encounter with the guy who played Ryan on The OC. He was by far the most unwilling participant in my escapades.
The point here, though, is that I was fearless. After the last glass of champagne was poured and my friends and I piled in whatever car we came in, they would giggle about my antics. “Shameless” was a word they threw around a lot when it came to me. It later would become a game, where they would eye a celebrity and essentially dare me to go chat them up. I always performed and save for Ryan from the OC, everyone was actually pretty cool and willing to talk to me. The fear of being rejected or my pride being insulted was so far from my mind that in all honesty, I couldn’t be stopped. I was a party planner’s worst nightmare.
For me, though, this approach was second nature. Throughout my entire life, I have been taught several important lessons by my parents. The first, is that we are all equal. We may look different, come from different economic backgrounds, have different educational experiences and different titles. But at the end of the day, not one of us is better than the other. The second important lesson they taught me, was that if I set my mind on something, I can achieve it.
I have armed myself with those lessons throughout most of my life. And that armor has opened up great doors for me. It has opened up great doors for me, because at the end of the day, I am not afraid to put myself out there. I am not afraid to ask for what I want. I am not afraid to be rejected. I am not afraid to go after my dreams. Failure in any of these areas does not scare me.
Knowing about the fearlessness that drives my personality, I was stunned when I realized something earlier this summer: I am afraid of something.
Earlier this summer I turned the page on a three-year relationship. Getting to that point was difficult, filled with tears, a lot of pain and many sleepless nights. Getting there involved long talks with friends, a lack of understanding from my family and general confusion on my part. The relationship wasn’t abusive or anything too horrible. Rather, it was something that wasn’t up to my standards. To put it mildly, it was going nowhere mostly because of the circumstances we found ourselves in. Yet, for three years, I held on tightly to it. At the time, I couldn’t tell you why, but I believed in it with all of my heart. Even when all signs pointed in the direction of, “Alicia, you need to pick up your stuff and move on,” I would stay or come back. I couldn’t let go. For someone who prides herself on being strong, having high standards and not putting up with nonsense, these actions of mine were so confusing to me.
Finally, on a Sunday morning filled with a lot of tears, prayer and what I thought would be regrets, I let go. I hit my breaking point, made a call and pulled the plug. In one of my bravest moments, I let go.
In that moment, I felt like I had the wind knocked out of me. In the days after, I wondered if I could go on. And about three days after it all unfolded, I did something I had never done before: I drove to Barnes and Noble and purchased a self-help book. The question I sought to answer, was how a person like me–who is generally void of fear–was so afraid to let go of something that wasn’t as good as it could be. Why was I afraid to move on from this relationship that at the time, I thought was comfortable, and throw myself into the unknown?
In the days that followed, as I read that book, I learned that I struggle with the thought of losing people in my life. It made sense, given that I grew up next-door to my elderly grandparents and stressed a lot as a child about their deaths. As such, I have a tendency to hang onto people in my life for longer than I should. I also work hard at maintaining relationships that probably don’t deserve maintenance.
So, why am I sharing this with you? Why am I opening myself up like a person lying on a therapist’s bed?
I’m doing it so you can see the power of fear.
For three years, fear held me back. It held me back from better relationships. It held me back from men who may have actually given me what I want–a ring and a chance at building a family. It held me back from realizing my full potential when it comes to relationships.
Fear held me back, because I was afraid of letting go. Fear held me back, because its ugly grasp convinced me that there was nothing better out there. Fear held me back because the thought of doing things on my own scared me more than doing them not as well as I could with the person I was with.
A year or so ago, I was strolling through one of the kitschy gift stores that I love visiting so much. I passed a stand of quotes enscribed on canvas. One of them read, “What would you do if you weren’t afraid?”
“Interesting thought,” I thought. At the time, I didn’t think I was afraid of anything. I put myself into the world of the media, even though I had no formal media training. I fearlessly pursued relationships in the sports industry, even though in my early days, I really had nothing to offer those I was seeking to get to know. I had no fear in cold calling TV stations and radio stations and asking for the opportunity to discuss stories on air. Traveling alone, eating alone and living alone didn’t even cross my mind as things that should scare me.
This summer, though, I finally realized that I do have fears. And while it was scary and painful, at the end of the day, it made me feel human. The vulnerability filled my soul, and in a crazy way, it gave me hope. It gave me hope, because by recognizing what I was afraid of, I could begin dealing with it. And the best way to deal with fear, is to decide that you are no longer scared of it. The best way to deal with fear is to look it in the face, tell it has no place in your life, move around it and get to where you need to go by escaping it.
I’m no longer afraid of losing someone. And because I am not longer afraid of losing someone, I can finally work on letting the right person in.
Each of us has our own fears. Like I say our dreams are, our fears too, are personal. What do you fear? How is it holding you back?
I ask, because I want to tell you a secret:
The sooner you stop your fear from controlling you, the quicker you can make your dreams come true.
So, let go. Move on. Take that big dream and make it a reality.
Fear says you can’t. Reality says you can.
The Journey
Don’t tell Ralph Waldo Emerson, but I’m really not a fan of the whole, “Life is a journey, not a destination” mantra.
While I may be coming around a bit when it comes to my feelings on that quote, one thing is certain: I despised it in 2011.
In case you’re new here, 2011 was rough for me.
I had my destination mapped out for as long as I could remember. To sum it up, I was going to work my behind off through much of my younger years, go to law school, graduate and get some impressive sports job.
From my young perspective, the whole journey component was nothing short of a hassle. I had big dreams, bold plans and a short amount of time I wanted to accomplish both in. There was no time marked in my planner to stop and smell the roses. There were no breaks or follies. To put it mildly, I was all business, even as a youngster.
For the most part, my journey led me directly to my destination for most of my years. There were a few curve balls thrown in there, but nothing too terribly detrimental.
Then 2011 struck. I lost the “love of my life.” (Side note: You never lose the love of your life. If it’s the love of your life, they don’t disappear. Perhaps this is a topic for another day, but I digress). I lost the “job of my dreams” when I fell runner-up to an impressive in-house counsel gig. The real nail in the coffin, though, was when my crush made out with my best friend at my birthday party in 2011. As lame as it seems now as I put that in writing two years later, it was in that moment that I was really sent over the edge and driven off course.
Or so I thought.
What I didn’t know at the time, but what hindsight (which “is 20-20”) has shown me, is that all of those things happened for a reason. In the days after my birthday in 2011, I hit the proverbial brick wall. I was at my lowest of lows and knew that I need to make a change. After prayer, lots of really, really long runs along the California coast and many late night talks with my roommate at the time, Alex, I decided I was going to refocus my negative energy at the time into something. That something was RulingSports.com.
Some two years later, I woke up today a college professor.
I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for RulingSports.com.
So, perhaps, it is about the journey after all. Smooth, Mr. Emerson.
Sometime in 2012, when the clouds of 2011 had parted, I was walking through a Whole Foods when I walked past a stand of greeting cards. One of the cards held this quote:
I literally stopped in my tracks when I saw it. And it wouldn’t be a lie to say that I thought something like, “I have no idea who this Asha Tyson chick is (side note: Turns out Asha is an author who has penned such intriguing titles as, ‘How I Retired at 26!’), but she has a far more solid mantra than ol’ Ralph.”
So there I was, with a hand basket of organic vegetables, standing in an aisle at Whole Foods and thinking, “Yea, that’s right! This journey–the good, the bad, the ugly, the painful, the beautiful–it all has molded me! And not only has it molded me, but it has molded me for the greater good. How about that?! And that time I thought I’ve been wasting, especially on that guy who I thought was the “love of my life”? Well, that wasn’t wasted time.
Because it led me here.
A lot of people have asked me how I decided to pursue a career in academia. In all honesty, it threw a lot of people for a loop. The simplest answer, is that I considered my journey and I prayed about it. A lot.
And after that consideration and prayer (and the fifteen-plus sports-related trips I’ve taken this year), I realized a few things. Namely:
1. Sports is my greatest passion in life.
2. I need a career related to sports that provides me with a stable lifestyle, as I want to have a family someday.
3. I love the media work I do, but many of the women I know in media work are unable to balance their media job, husband and children.
4. I love working with college-aged individuals in not only a teaching capacity, but helping them achieve their own goals and dreams.
5. A job teaching provides the best of all of these things and also allows me to continue writing for media outlets and furthering my own research.
So, long story short, a perfect storm of events collided and I found my dream job. Last week was my first week on the University of Miami campus, and in all honesty, last week was one of the happiest I have experienced in a long time. I’m 2,000 miles from home, but I feel like I’m at home. I have laughed more in the last ten days than I have in years. That “love of my life” that I lost? I wouldn’t have taken this job if he was still in the picture. That job I “lost out” on? There’s no way I would’ve been as happy there as I am here. That crush that decided he’d celebrate my birthday by making out with my friend? Well, clearly, I didn’t lose out there.
If I had known throughout all of that what stood on this, the other side, I could’ve slept a lot more, cried a lot less and been a lot happier.
Today marked the first college class I taught. It was the ever important “syllabus day.” As I stood in front of my students and stole their summer vacation away from them, I was remembering what I was thinking of when I sat in their seats. The hope that filled my heart. The endless possibilities that marked my future. The naive goals I had set for myself.
As a professor, it is my goal to encourage my students to dream the biggest dreams possible and to hold onto their hopes. As a professor, it is my job to give my all to ensure that they are given every opportunity to achieve those big dreams and to never lose those hopes.
This job is one of the greatest honors of my life and this day marks the next turn in this very fun journey I am on.
Enough
The theme of my thoughts over the last month has been one word: Enough.
Over the last thirty days, more often than not, I’ve found myself reminding myself, “You are enough.” Or, “You have enough.” The last weekend in June found me saying, “I’ve had enough.”
For so long in my life, I was always chasing the next thing. In fact, up until the last month, I didn’t feel as though there was enough in my life. I always was searching for something more, someone different or some other place. The moment was never enough for me. The present was never acceptable.
Last fall, I was sitting at breakfast with former Denver Broncos player, Rod Smith. Rod was incredibly successful in the NFL. He is though, perhaps, even more successful in retirement with his business enterprise. As we were chatting over coffee and breakfast, he looked at me and said, “Alicia, you are someone who is unsatisfied. You always want more. It drives you.” He said this after we talked about how I had 20 years of education under my belt and a good job, yet was not content with either.
At the time, in all honesty, I was motivated by Rod’s words. I wanted more at the time. I was not content with the things that were in my life at that moment. His words were powerful to me. I remember driving home later that morning and being energized by them. To me, his words signaled a message to me, that my discontentment could drive me to achieve anything.
I wish I could say that some really climatic thing happened in my life to realize that life–in this very moment, just how it is–is enough. As embarrassing as it is, though, I didn’t realize that my life is enough until I lost one of the things I was chasing the most. It wasn’t until I gave up chasing someone I wanted more than anything else that I realized that my life, just as it is, is enough.
That realization has made me realize, that at my core, this Alicia–who meets professional athletes, travels frequently, and gets to experience things she never imagined she would–is the same Alicia who grew up in humble beginnings. I’m the same person who loves being silly with friends, laughing until late in the night and hitting up local dive bars. I’ve realized that the people who find their way into my life and the moments I am given here on Earth are enough. I’ve come to know that while my appearance and clothing style may change with time, my heart is still the same. Every piece of this life that has followed me now for 29 years has been enough. Even when I thought that it wasn’t.
In my personal life, I serve as a national officer for my sorority. This weekend, we had a regional leadership conference, where collegiate members of the sorority were given leadership tools to place in their toolboxes. I visited with one of the chapters I work with this week as they painstakingly sat and told me everything they saw of themselves that they felt was wrong. “We are awkward communicators.” “We don’t get invited to parties.” “We aren’t social enough.” “Nobody knows who we are.”
At one point, I had three twenty-something-year-old women sitting in front of me crying. What they were really saying to me was, “We don’t think we are enough.” In that moment, all I wanted to do was hug each and every one of them and say, “You are enough. Every piece of you is special. You are perfect just the way you are.”
I think that sometimes in life, we get so caught up in perceptions and the chase, that we lose sight of who we truly are. We lose sight of the fact that each of us is created uniquely beautiful in a manner that is perfectly suited for us. We lose sight of the fact that our upbringing got us to where we are today. We lose sight of the fact that the people around us are there to guard our hearts and secure our dreams. We lose sight that in this very moment, we are enough. Just as we are.
When I look back at my life in its entirety, I see someone who was never satisfied with herself. In some regards, this may have been a good thing. My dissatisfaction pushed me to great heights. It made me incredibly competitive. In other regards, it was a bad thing. My dissatisfaction pushed me to unfortunate lows. It made me incredibly weak.
The heights that my dissatisfaction pushed me to took me to one of the country’s greatest engineering schools. There, I was the second female student body president in the school’s history. I was a cheerleader and an officer of my sorority. My dissatisfaction took me to law school and helped me graduate cum laude and land an editorial board position on the law review. My dissatisfaction landed me jobs with entertainment industry leaders. My dissatisfaction led me to launch RulingSports.com, which opened more doors than I ever could have imagined. These are the sunny things my dissatisfaction brought me.
At the same time, though, my dissatisfaction took me down some dark roads. Dissatisfaction led me to not accept my body the way God intended it to be. Dissatisfaction led me to years of battling an eating disorder and the emotional pain that comes after overcoming one. Dissatisfaction cost me three years of my life with a man who never appreciated me how he should. Dissatisfaction made me not appreciate the people who have always been by my side the way I should have appreciated them. Dissatisfaction led me to never really enjoy the moment, but rather, always wonder about what was next. For every blessing dissatisfaction brought me, it was accompanied by a curse. To sum it up, that curse was the belief that the way I was in any given moment wasn’t enough. I needed a better job. Or more money. Or nicer clothes. Or a skinnier body.
In two weeks, I’ll be moving to Miami to teach sports law at theUniversity of Miami. In all honesty, I never thought this is a job I would be able to attain. I think the interesting part about it, though, is that for once–finally–what I’m about to receive seems like enough. I plan to have breakfast with Rod before I leave. And I want to tell him, “Hey buddy, I’m content. I’m really, really happy right now. And it feels better than I ever could have imagined.”
Happiness is a long road. My journey has seen many highs and probably more lows. It was a personal journey, where now, looking back, I can fully see and understand why every single thing happened. Self-realization and awareness is a powerful thing. More powerful, though, is the realization that you–just as you are, in this very moment, is enough.
Letting Go
I did something in church today that I haven’t done since I was an infant: I cried.
I go to what my deceased grandmother, whose brother was a pastor, would call a “rock-and-roll church.” For what it’s worth, the late Barbara May Watts would probably be mortified to learn that her nicely raised Lutheran of a youngest granddaughter goes to rock-and-roll church.
But today, I was grateful that I go to rock-and-roll church. I was grateful, because with rock-and-roll church, comes light displays. With light displays, comes a chance that at any moment, the lights will be dim. And with dim lights, comes the possibility that nobody caught you crying at church at age 29. For that, I am forever grateful that I go to rock-and-roll church.
I cried today at church, because the pastor preached a heaven sent sermon about releasing the one thing in our heart that we are holding onto to gain what God wants for us.
I released that person yesterday.
Sometimes in life, you are asked to spit out a handful of adjectives to define yourself so strangers can gain a sense of who you are. My adjectives are generally the same: I’m loyal; I’m driven; I’m passionate; I’m persistent; I’m hopeful.
Generally, these adjectives represent good things. Having these adjectives define me has taken me to great places in my life. When it comes to relationships, though, these adjectives can be like throwing kindle into a flame.
Something I sporadically spent three years of my life focusing on came to a complete end yesterday. I had given all my heart. I had tried everything I could do. I said everything that could be said.
I left it with grace. I left it with words of truth and not bitterness. I left it with well wishes and good luck and an, “I know our paths will cross again” sense.
It hurt, though. Because I’m loyal. Because I’m driven. Because I’m passionate. Because I’m persistent. Because I’m hopeful.
But I let it go. With a couple quick sentences and explanations that made anything but sense as they were uttered, it was over. It was done. That piece of my heart had been released.
So, I cried today in church. I cried today in church when the pastor said that sometimes, you have to let go of the things you are holding onto the hardest, to find what God wants for you. I wish that’s what I was thinking yesterday when I let go of you. But I was thinking something more along the lines of, this has gotten too hard. And I can’t do it anymore.
What I’ve learned about life, is that when you release things that weren’t meant to be, what should be finds its way into your life. Tomorrow represents the second-year anniversary of the launch of RulingSports.com. I remember the things in my life that I gave up to bring the website to life. And I am thoughtful daily of the good things that have come into my life since I let go of those things and accepted new opportunities. In short, my prayers were answered.
It confuses me to think that the thing I prayed about the most over the last three years wasn’t myself. Or my family. Or my career. It was you.
And today, another prayer was answered.
I’m going to let you all in on something you all probably already know: I don’t have it all figured out.
Knowing that, it is nothing short of an honor that a blog reader whose daughter recently graduated from college reached out to me asking if I’d sit down with her daughter and provide some advice about going forward after college. While I surely don’t have it all figured out, over the last seven years (I cannot believe it has been that long!) since graduating from undergrad and four years since graduating from law school, I’ve been taught some hard lessons. And it is hard lessons from which advice is born. So, here are three pieces of advice that I would offer for recent grads, with the hope that they can save themselves from some of the struggles, troubles and pain I’ve encountered over the last seven years.
1. Timing is not everything; the time we have is
I graduated from an anomaly of an undergraduate institution, whereupon with only a bachelor’s degree, most of my friends landed six-figure paying jobs. I then made the terrible economic decision to put myself into debt and go to law school. As luck would have it, I graduated from law school in a recession. What that meant, is there were only a handful of six-figure paying jobs for entry-level attorneys when I came out of law school. Needless to say, I did not land a six-figure paying job out of law school.
I beat myself up for nearly two years after law school. I was miserable in my job and more often than not, second guessed my decision to attend law school. I was weighted down with student loan debt, attempting to live a lavish lifestyle in southern California and probably making less than I would have had I just gone straight to work after completing undergrad.
During this time, both of my parents said the one thing that a person going through a personal crisis doesn’t want to hear: “Just give it time. Things will get better.”
Upon receiving this advice, I’d always counter with some snarky comment about not having time, that I wanted to get on with my life, and how I worked so hard to do things the right way so I could lead my life the way I wanted to. I was a pretty miserable person to be around during these bursts and I wasted a lot of energy being that miserable person.
At some point, I ran out of the energy necessary to be miserable. As I came to learn, being miserable is exhausting. It consumes you. It eats you up. It destroys you. As someone whose always been known for an optimistic nature (heck, I won the Optimist Club’s speech contest in 8th grade) and ability to laugh off everything (I’ve been told more than once that I have a nervous habit of giggling after much of what I say), I didn’t recognize myself for some time.
Slowly, though, grace came back into my life. The universe sent a man into my life who might be the most optimistic soul I’ve ever met. On top of that, he had dreams grander than mine and he believed with his whole heart that he would achieve them. He’d wake up in the morning excited about the possibility that day held. He drove to work believing that he could achieve anything he set out to do. He was positive about where his future was taking him, even if he had to stumble sometimes along the way. Seeing the way in which he led his life slowly allowed grace to re-enter mine.
It was with that grace that I realized that you don’t wake up and stumble upon success. It was with that grace that I finally succumbed to the understanding that it is in fact about the journey, and not the destination. It was with that grace that I finally decided that even though my life didn’t play out as planned, I deserved to be happy.
Life has changed a lot for me since God put that guy into my life. I wake up everyday thankful for the opportunity to work on getting to where I want to be. I thank God when things don’t work out my way, because chances are, His way is better. I look at the meagerness of my paycheck and think back to that guy’s saying of, “I like working for peanuts–it keeps me hungry.”
Most of all, though, what I’ve realized is that timing isn’t everything. Rather, the time that we have on Earth is everything. Recognizing that this very moment is all I have has forced me to live more intentionally. That intentionality in turn, has led me to focus on the things I can change. That focus has restored my happiness. Happiness, like time, is everything.
2. Be the captain of your own ship
Because the time we have on this Earth is everything we will ever have, how you use that time is crucial. The best use of that time is to proactively create opportunities that will drive you to where you want to be. I call this being the captain of your own ship.
My misery for the first two years after I graduated law school was caused in large part by me not finding the career opportunities I wanted. My misery ceased once I woke up and realized I was the captain of the Alicia Ship. In a moment of clarity, I realized I had the power to chart the course my ship sailed and in exchange, create my own happiness.
The point here, is you cannot wait for the perfect time to do something. If you have a plan, wish or dream in your heart, it was put there for a reason. That reason is to act upon it. You cannot wait for the universe to align perfectly, the right job offer to pop up, or to be fully financially stable to make your move. Because we know that timing is never perfect, but that time is everything that we have, you must sail your ship forward. As the captain of your own ship, you need to pick the time when the water is steady enough and when you can see far enough ahead to set sail. If you don’t go, you will sink.
Society tells us to be careful to an extreme. Mothers of people my aged plastered “Baby on Board” signs across their minivans in hopes that drivers near them would do what they were already supposed to do: drive carefully. Children no longer roam streets freely on their bicycles during summertime, because we are worried for their safety. We routinely walk through metal detectors and endure pat-downs at things like sporting events all in an effort to protect ourselves from unknown harms.
There is a difference between being careful and tying your ship to the dock forever. Being careful is making wise financial decisions before starting a business. Tying your ship to the dock is never starting a business because it is too expensive. If you wait on life’s dock forever, you’ll see a lot of nice sunsets, but in the end, life will pass you by.
I was having dinner a few weeks ago with a man who has been a journalist for over 20 years. He was so kind to me and said I have the world at my fingertips. I told him about a great opportunity at my doorstep and shared my frustration over something I need to do to fully secure the opportunity. After noting that frustration, I said, “Everything happens in its own time though. If it’s meant to be, what needs to get done will find a way of getting finished.”
His response was so perfect. He said, “Alicia, you are the way. Now is the time. Sometimes you need to speed up time and bring things to yourself. This opportunity is at your doorstep for a reason–for you to take it.”
I love that he said that, because it reminded me that you cannot get too complacent with how you sail your ship. Even when waters aren’t rough, you need to look ahead and do what is necessary to traverse through life the way you want to. And sometimes, that means making bold decisions, taking reasonable risks and charting a new course.
3. Prioritize your passions
By now you have probably heard the adage, “Choose a job you love and never work a day in your life.” These days, Americans spend more time than ever at their jobs. Given that time is everything we have on this earth, I am an advocate for using that time wisely. And a wise use of time is doing something you’re passionate about with it.
The biggest mistake I made in my early life was worrying too much about money. I made educational decisions based largely on the financial payout they would provide after graduation. I went to an engineering school even though my heart was never truly in engineering. At a young age I chose law school because I knew I’d be able to make a good living as a lawyer.
Choosing to direct my life’s path based upon these factors meant that my passions were withheld. For as long as I can remember, my passions have been sports and writing. There is nothing I enjoy more than watching a good game, and I’ve been told a time or two that I tell a good story. However, my younger self didn’t see a way in which I could pay my bills by pursuing these passions. So I didn’t pursue them.
I’m a religious person and I believe that we all have a purpose to serve on this planet. I believe that by the end of your life, you will have fulfilled your purpose. Sometimes, it takes the misery of experiencing the process of recognizing what your purpose is not to finally push you in the direction of prioritizing your passions. I truly believe that I would not be where I am today–devoting myself to pursuing a career that melds my passions–had I not experienced the misery I did earlier in my career. God–or for non-believers, the universe–finally got me back on the course my life was charted to travel.
Some days I wonder what my life would look like now had I been brave enough at 18-years-old to actually pursue my passion rather than a paycheck. Every now and then I catch myself thinking about the ways in which my life would be different had I set out at that age to be a writer. I question whether I’d be further ahead on this journey and what opportunities I would have experienced. I’m not one to dwell too much on the past, so I don’t spend much time considering this. Rather, I just give thanks that I realized sooner rather than later that a life without passion is meaningless. I’m grateful that after a couple of years of pain, I found the strength to pursue mine.
Deep down, I believe we all know what we are meant to do with the life we’ve been given. The best way to figure it out, I’d say, is to think about where your mind goes when you daydream. What kind of picture do you paint for your life when there are no boundaries for it? What are you doing? Where are you living? Who are you with? Those are your passions. And you need to put them first.
There is so much I have experienced in the last seven years that have molded me into the person I am today. I didn’t think that life could get any better than it was when I was 22-years-old. I was surrounded by friends, fun and young love. While things got rocky for some time, I can look back at age 28 and say that I am a better person today than I was then. I can also say that my life has unfolded in far better ways than I imagined. The process of becoming the woman I have become over the last seven years has prepared me to face bigger challenges and chart tougher courses as the time of my life marches on. Because after all, that time is everything, and every possibility–should you seek to find it–is wound up within it.
Motivation
Everybody has their own motives for what they do. Everyone on this planet is fueled by different passions and pushed to succeed for different reasons. My cousin recently asked me what has driven me down this path I am on, so being who I am, I decided to answer his question here. What motivates me to give everyday my all, to chase my dreams, and go into this world believing that I can accomplish anything?
What drives me harder to succeed that anything, is people who don’t believe in me. The naysayers. Those who say, “You could never do that.” Or, “Your economic background isn’t good enough for that.” Or, “That piece of paper called your diploma isn’t from an esteemed enough institution to open that door.”
I was born premature to a man who spent some of his teenage years homeless, dropped out of high school and got a GED and to a mother who tinkered with the idea of college but never completed a degree. I think it’s safe to say that when I was born, some members of my extended family didn’t have the highest expectations for what I would do with my life.
Yet, the two people who brought me into this world told me constantly that I could do anything I set my mind to. They read to me daily, challenged me with new ideas and instilled in me beliefs, that by educating myself and being nice to others, I could open any door in this world.
My mother also took me to church every week. And it was there that I learned, “I can do all things through Him who gives me strength.”
The combination of these lessons gave me a strong enough belief in myself, that when other people doubted my abilities, dreams and hopes, I kept pushing on. It is that push that has made all of the difference in my life.
The push has led me down interesting paths and has peppered my life with experiences for which I’m grateful.
Someone doubted that I could graduate from the best engineering school in Colorado, so I earned my diploma there.
Someone didn’t think I could make my college’s cheerleading squad, so I became captain.
Someone thought my blog was a waste of time, so I pressed on and got a broadcasting agent.
The biggest motivator in my life has always been the belief within my heart that I know what I am on this planet to do, and because I can do everything through Him, I am going to set out to do it. If I were to fall victim to critics–to disbelievers–I would be doing not only myself, but this world an injustice.
I believe that each of us is put here on this planet for a reason. While many search high and low throughout their lives to find that reason, I believe that at age 28, I have figured out what that reason is (note: I will probably re-read this at age 40 and get a kick out of what I thought the meaning of life was at 28-years-old). The reason is to go into the world, and do the good things that are written on your heart.
For me, that is to share others’ stories. To get to know people and really understand them at their core and then take the messages found from their experiences and share them with the world. It’s charting a path based upon my background and experiences to use the talents I have been given to make this world a better place. The other day, someone told me that this is something that can’t be done. So, as per usual, I am going to give my all to get it done.
At the same time, my motivation is also an acceptance of who I am. And part of this acceptance, is that people can take what I can offer, or they can leave it. I do not come from wealth. I did not graduate from an Ivy League law school. I am a Christian and a sorority woman who believes that life is far too short to be too serious. I have a hard time being mean to people, and laugh after almost everything I say. I am a sensitive soul who bottles up that sensitivity by putting out an air of confidence, that only my true friends know is a mask. I am someone, who just given the opportunity, will lay my heart and soul out on the line and put my best foot forward. Every single time.
Motivation is personal. Yet, at the same time, I would aim to guess that most of us are motivated by the same thing: someone who disbelieved. And, I beg to argue that nothing tastes as good as proving a disbeliever wrong, save for celebrating with those who have always believed in you.
Alicia Jessop 