My Quarterlife Crisis

Between the ages of 25 and the current tender age of 27, four events lead up to my quarter life crisis.  Who would have thought break dancing, kids, and aging would bring about the realization I’m no longer a kid.  I thought maybe I would be a Toys R Us Kid forever, since I would always be the height of one.  In my mind, I felt there was still a chance I could be a doctor, lawyer, dancer, singer, writer, and business woman all at the same time.  Yet reality finally set in, I’m not Superwoman and I’m just another late twenties woman.  This quarter life crisis definitely has proved to be a rude wakeup call; this is when I knew…..

When I decided maybe I can't be a break dancer. As a kid back in the 80's, I believed I was a professional break dancer.  I practiced everyday so I would be prepared for my huge holiday concerts (okay maybe it was just a family get-together, but I was paid $1.00!!). In my performances, I put everything into those head spins, top rocks, and air flares to the extreme my little body could handle for over an hour.   I would continually watch Breakin to learn the moves of Kelly, Ozone, and Turbo.  Nothing in my head was better than the inspirational Breakin. Nothing could beat watching Kelly insert her jazz moves into break dancing and the excessive use of body popping was like a dream come true.  Life couldn't get any better than the dream of being in a break dancing battle with Ice T as the MC!

My break dancing career ended at such an early age after an incident from practicing a routine I saw on Breakin.  I was in serious break dancing practice where a lethal turn in my dance sent me through a glass table.  I was attempting some intense down rock, when I tried to land back on my feet.  Dramatic times, I survived with only one mark to show for it.  No one can ever say I didn’t experience the true meaning of break dancing.  I thought maybe one day I could resurrect this career, which always stayed in the back of my mind. 

Recently, I watched Breakin and saw it in a completely new light as a crappy movie, nothing profound about it.  Even Ozone looked extremely odd to me now.  It was a cruel reality check to see Ozone in this light and thinking now his dance moves sucked along with his attire.  Then and there I realized I was now a different person and older.  My moment of clarity brought me to the realization; I will never be a professional break dancer.  No popping and locking, and spinning in my future was a depressing reality. 

For the break of your life! Push it to pop it! Rock it to lock it! Break it to make it!

When I started thinking about kids... The moment your biological clock starts ticking has to be the worst ever.  Out of the blue one day, the sight of babies turned from "ugh" to "awe".  The way you know your clock is ticking is because you've said ”awe" more than 5 times in a week over children, their clothes, or toys.  It's almost like an alien invading your body to implant venom called "The mushy".  The mushy is that feeling you get, when you start seeing everything dealing with children as adorable and it turns into an emotional experience for you.  For those few minutes you experience the mushy you want a kid so badly, then the mushy turns off and all is right in the world again.   There comes days when now I want to hold babies and do the annoying baby talk (gogogaga), which deep down grosses me out.  What’s probably worst than “The Mushy” is the constant conversations and questioning you seem to be involved in on a weekly basis.

This lethal questioning usually starts around the age 25; it starts small and ends with shocking questions you never thought someone would just flat out ask you.  The older you get the bolder people become. It’s like people feel as you hit the 25 and up mark you should be less shocked at the things that will come out their mouth, so that gives them creative license to be as colorful with words as possible. There’s always the constant questioning or remarks about your lack of kids.  This alone makes “The Mushy” feel like a second alien entering your body to chip off a small piece of your soul and add an extra biological timer.

Have you thought about babies?

When are you going to have a kid?

      You realize you’re getting older right? 

When are you going to give me a grandbaby? 

When people ask what grade I’m in….. One thing that never fails to let me know how old I am has to be, when folks ask me or my mother “What grade is she in?” Nothing rips through the heart more than constant acknowledgement of your actual age.   Being short and looking young is definitely aiding in my quarter life crisis.  If you think about it, no one is ever asked every day, “What’s your age?”   You probably don’t say how old you are, but maybe twice per month.  Constant reminders are the equivalent of walking on glass slowly.  Blanche Devereaux on the  Golden Girls had a point, when she never shared her age and even went to the extreme of getting the governor to change the birth date on her birth certificate, so no one can constantly remind her of her age.  Don't get me wrong, aging is beautiful and the knowledge you obtain while is awesome, but there is nothing sexy about constant age telling, at least in my opinion.


Quarter life crisis comes and goes with the ever-so-changing life events that shape our current experiences.  It’s not really a bad thing, more like a necessary to shock us all into reality to push to the side that little self-centeredness and Superman complex that’s in us all in our 20s.  So embrace it when it comes, there’s no vaccination to stop it. Let it run its course and just maybe you will realize you still have time to be a break dancer.

 by Shercole