The Care & Keeping of Me

In which I air my grievances around the fact that no one has written a self-help guide for twenty-four year olds trying to balance the nuances of adulthood.

When I was about 10 years old, there was a book that kind of changed my life. Titled “The Care & Keeping of You,” this book from the AmericanGirl company was filled with pages upon pages of illustrations paired with helpful text on some of the most ~personal~ things in a young gal’s life. From dealing with braces to inserting a tampon, this book essentially served as a how-to guide on how to girl (in a cis-gender sense). Particularly, how to age into being a cool pre-teen who not only knew about her body, but was proud of aging into it.

Over the years, I’ve found myself referencing the existence of this book time after time to so many of my friends — how it was basically the foundation of my pre-teen existence. The bible of all body care bibles. The ultimate guide for things you never want to talk to your mom about. When a friend also recalls the book (I’m now 24 and it’s almost exclusively remembered by girls right around my same age), we have an instant bond, that special spark that can ignite the very core of female friendship. She gets it, I get it… we got through those awkward years together with this book by our side.

Do you guys remember that Lizzie McGuire episode where she had to go bra shopping with her mom? Of course you do, fellow young millennial female who I assume is reading this.

All that to say, I’ve been thinking about this book a lot lately.

It’s been about a month now since I decided to press the reset button on my life. Not drastically, but intentionally (after a lot of ugly cries) I decided to start focusing on cleansing myself of bad choices and really sitting down to consider what my future is going to look like. Or rather, what I want my future to look like. And I want that future to be filled with me growing TF up.

Twenty-four has been the first time I’ve felt I’m toeing the line between young enough to still be naive, but old enough to know better.

It’s like rather than transitioning from pre-teen to teen, like my AmericanGirl days taught me how to do, I’m transitioning from (lowercase) adult (to all caps) ADULT. Old enough to understand the consequences of my actions, but young enough not to really give a fuck all the time. Young enough to still have energy for everyone, but old enough to know when I need to save some time for myself. Old enough to know I have to have an emergency savings fund, but young enough to find multiple Friday night cocktails (and Saturday bar crawls) irresistible. It’s been a strange age, with increased responsibilities and increased stresses.

There is no forgetting the first time you’re told you need glasses. There’s also no forgetting the first time you have to put contacts in.

So needless to say, twenty-four has been a really intense and important year for my development. But I’ve struggled the past six months because I feel as though I’m wading through these very adult waters on my own. No guides, no cheerful illustrations, no encouraging captions. Just big bills, crumpled up receipts, tears of frustration, and some cringeworthy losses of dignity along the way.

I guess I just want to know why no one’s created a guide like The Care & Keeping of You for this stage of life? Why is no one telling me how to consider the financial implications of buying a home? How can I get to a place where I can afford a luxurious West Elm throw for my couch while also affording new tires for my car? Why is no one is telling me how to get over that terrible relationship that we all know was terrible for me? Or how to send that text saying nothing personal, I’m just not interested? Why is no one telling me how to stop getting these horrifying, stress-induced breakouts on my face and why is no one reminding me to make a damn eye doctor appointment so I can stop wearing 3 week old contact lenses?!

Oh, yea…because I guess I’m the one who’s supposed to be doing all those things…for myself. I’m the one who has to write this guide.

Damn it.

Lol I dare you to find me a mother/daughter pair in the feminine hygiene aisle that ever looks this pleasant.

So where does one start cobbling their life together? Especially someone who, from the outside, seems to be doing an okay-ish job at it. (seriously, it could be WAY worse and we all know it). Anyway, here’s how I’m taking a stab at it:

For starters, I’m leaning back on the passions that made me who I am. Writing, illustrating, reading, cooking…these four things in particular were always the creative safe havens for me whenever I needed a recharge. And at different periods in my life, they served as key definers of who I was at that moment. So many people I’ve met in my post-grad years never know much about me past my career or my personality, but I’m bringing my creative passions back to center me in an attempt to make me whole again.

I’m changing my aesthetic. Again, this isn’t something drastic — I’m not about to go bleach my hair like Kylie (even though bleached hair has always been a lowkey dream of mine — DON’T WORRY IT’S NEVER HAPPENING). Rather, I’m accepting that my aesthetic in all things as one that no longer needs to rely on trends to be a holistic representation of who I am. I get to slice and dice the way I want to represent myself without the influence of anyone’s opinion other than my own. And I can change it whenever I want to, but at least I’ll know myself well enough to know I’m doing it for just me.

And then there’s the whole “getting your shit together” part. Making sure I’m financially responsible, making sure I’m a good friend, a good sister, daughter, employee. Making sure I’m not wasting time on idiots who don’t care about me. Being a good advocate for causes that matter to me and striving to constantly remain a strong champion of change. You know, the checks and balances.

For the first time in a long time I’m choosing to bring my attention back to me. Now, it’s important to note I’m not asking others for attention. I’m simply challenging myself to get this wonderful trash heap that I call life together enough to cobble a really gratifying existence out of it. Something I can look back on and say “Yea, I did the damn thing. And I did it well. And I did it for myself.”

This is probably a little more honest than it should be (and probably a little more rambling than it should be), but I’ve always stuck by that whole ‘shame is a social construct’ way of thinking. Hell, if anything I could get a little nittier and grittier and be even MORE honest…but I’m sure I have bosses and coworkers and relatives and exes and random high school acquaintances reading this, so I’m not going all the way there…yet.

I’ve been telling people lately that I’m calling this era of my life my “Renaissance of Self.” Corny as hell, I know, but it gets the job done. I’m turning a new leaf in terms of self care and self love. I’m creating a foundation that’s going to keep me grounded for a while, at least until I’m ready for that next big transition (Is it when I turn 30? Oh god, I think it’s when I turn 30).

It’s not going to be perfect all the time, it’s not going to be easy, but it’s going to be good. Really really good. And I’m excited to start investing in it — in me — more.

Feel free to share with me what you felt like at 24 and how you managed to power through what is obviously a weird transition year into the great/cool/badass adult I know you are today. I’m fueled by the stories of others and I’d love to hear yours: karlakho@gmail.com. Who knows, maybe this could become, like, a thing?