Does Anyone Else Feel This Way?: Essays on Conquering the Quarter-Life Crisis by Eli Rallo

Jan 26
9 min read

I randomly came across Eli Rallo's audiobook Does Anyone Else Feel This Way?: Essays on Conquering the Quarter-Life Crisis while scrolling for my next listen after finishing How to Stop Breaking Your Own Heart by Meggan Roxanne. As I scanned the chapter titles, something immediately caught my attention: every single one began with a "Does Anyone Else...?" question.

The few that truly resonated with me was:

Does Anyone Else Have No Plan?
Does Anyone Else Know WTF to Do About Imposter Syndrome?
Does Anyone Else Feel Like a Faux Adult?
Does Anyone Else Feel Like They're Having a Quarter-Life Crisis?
Does Anyone Else Hate Socializing?

I tend to think—and I think A LOT. So when I saw Does Anyone Else Feel This Way? splashed across a pastel purple book cover with slice of vanilla cake and a pink birthday candle, Rallo didn't need to say another word. I knew exactly what she meant. Because I've been asking myself that same question over and over for years.

I tend to befriend avoidants—how one manages to practically collect them all is beyond me—but I'm usually the person who blurts out a question that immediately makes the room groan.

"Olive, no one wants to talk about that right now."

"Right, like why does she always bring these things up?"

"No one wants to think about that, Olive."

And all I had asked was, "can you guys believe how much older we've gotten?"

It sounds harsh, but honestly? It's comical watching my friends squirm under the questions I know they ask themselves internally.

For me, connection comes from sharing uncertainty. Talking through the same stressors gives me peace. So I wanted to walk through these questions myself—and I was grateful that Rallo and I could have this conversation together...even if it was just in my living room and she wasn't actually there.

"Does Anyone Else Have No Plan?"

I don't know why, but I don't think I ever imagined myself this far into the future. Not irresponsibly—just in a way that assumed I wouldn't still be here???

"Many U.S. youth ages fourteen to twenty-two expect to die before age thirty, according to a 2008 study published in the Journal of Adolescent Health. About one out of fifteen young people (6.7 percent) expressed such "unrealistic fatalism." (Jerold J. Kreisman, MD, and Hal Straus, I Hate You—Don't Leave Me: Understanding the Borderline Personality, 3rd ed. (New York: Penguin Books, 2010), 88.)

That's not where Rallo was going with this question—but it's where my mind went. I look at people I went to high school with: married, homeowners, parents. Then are people like me—gliding through our twenties, collecting experiences, chasing ideas, roaming farther from home. Married with kids or single and nomadic—I believe that neither group truly knows what the hell they're doing.

I put myself through undergrad and then straight into a graduate degree, both in history. When people ask what I studied, the follow-up is always: "So what do you plan on doing with your degrees?" And I want to disappear. Because the honest answer? I've found there's no real way to tell people I have degrees in history because I love it. I was good at it. I wanted to know more. That was it. Yes—$108K in debt for passion, not a five-step career plan.

I imagined if it ever turned it into something bigger, that would be beautiful. And if not, it would still be worthwhile.

The truth is, I want to be everything: a writer, an artist, a tattoo artist, a detective, a librarian, a small shop owner, a traveler, an influencer, be apart of a marketing team, be the CEO of a successful company, a singer, a performer—and ten other things in between. I know I want to be a mom. I've always wanted to be a wife. But the space in between? Completely undefined. So for me, "does anyone else have no plan?" Feels like my God, who DOES??? (I know there's many who do but lets keep it this way for the drama of it all). There are so many plans I want to be planning for my life so how do I plan them all while having no plan whatsoever?

My professors recommend I move to London and work on a PhD in Victorian England—tempting. I've thought about moving to every major city you could ever think of in the US to experience more than what my little hometown has to offer. I've thought about all the jobs I could have and where I could potentially have them and it keeps going with no target. It's terrifying but it's also breathtaking. So— does anyone else have no plan?

"Does Anyone Else Know WTF to Do About Imposter Syndrome?"

I ended a Zoom call with one of my favorite professors—someone who's known me for eight years—after she told me how proud she was of my work. I laughed it off and said I had no idea what I was doing but I was glad she appreciated it.

She stopped me.

She told me again—firmly—that my work was good. Truly good. And that she was proud.

I closed my laptop and sobbed.

For the last eight years, I felt like I was bullshitting my way through academia while surviving breakups, losing my mom, being assaulted, and barely holding myself together. I forgot the semester I spent obsessively researching Queen Charlotte and King George. I forgot how hard it was—and how excited I was—to hunt down primary sources on Victorian lesbians. I did real work. Over and over again. And still, I doubted myself.

I had a severe case of imposter syndrome that I had no idea held so much weight over me until my sweet professor kindly made sure I knew that was hovering over me.

Rallo blew up on Tiktok during the pandemic and that kind of lead the way for her to be able to publish her writings in a book form! I don't think she's gathered who she is now and what her success has led to even after reading this chapter written by her. Imposter syndrome minimizes the adult we already are. It convinces us our achievements are silly, accidental, or undeserved. A few months after that conversation with my professor, I closed every tab for PhD programs—London and the US—and cried again after reading what they would be asking of me before I was even accepted into their program.

I think Rallo and I both know who we are and what we're capable of but it is hard to believe it in the reality of things. I have no answer either. Does anyone else know WTF to do about imposter syndrome?

"Does Anyone Else Feel Like a Faux Adult?"

Every day I feel like a faux adult. I pay rent. I buy groceries. I work. I clean. I read. I meet my friends for espresso martinis. I journal. I cook (occasionally, dangerously). I run errands.

I feel like I'm cosplaying adulthood.

I have no idea what I'm doing and yet I feel like I am faking absolutely all of it in hopes I am somehow managing to do it right. Rallo felt similar to this. Do any of us really know what an adult is or what an adult should be doing?

My mom had a husband and nearly three children by my age. That sentence alone makes me blink in disbelief. A husband and three children by age 29??? I think I could raise a child right now if I really, really had to—but three? Absolutely not. I wish I could ask her if she ever felt like a faux adult too.

There's no guidelines. Some people are taught how to save, budget, and file taxes—they were slightly set up for adulthood in important ways. I learned by watching, guessing, and copying what adults on TV seemed to do. What else can I really say? Does anyone else feel like a faux adult?

"Does Anyone Else Feel Like They're Having a Quarter-Life Crisis?"

Because of my mom's timeline, as a kid, I truly expected to be married by age 25. Children soon after. I would've obviously gone through my college career and be in the FBI with Sandra Bullock by now so I too could stop mayhem from taking place in the Miss America Beauty pageant.

Instead, time flew—and didn't. It feels like only yesterday I was 23 and being told I had to stay indoors, away from every and anyone for an unknown, uncertain amount of time. Six years passed since lockdown, yet my life changed about 200 times. Multiple homes. Multiple relationships. Multiple, multiple versions of myself and I felt every minute of it.

I panic about turning 30 later this year. Not because of being 30, no—I am so down to be thirty, flirty, and thriving. But the panic looks like:

"My God, should I have had children already?? Am I getting to the point of maybe not ever having the chance to be a mom? But I've always wanted to be a mom at 40 so that gives me ten years but that's not a lot of time. That's actually no time at all. Could I be a mom after 40? But do I actually want to wait that long? 10 years is a long time, but it's not."

These are the exact thoughts that continuously bounce around in my mind lately.

I still want my Carrie Bradshaw years in my mid-30's. I'll settle into my Charlotte York later. (Though, truly, I'm a Miranda with a rising Charlotte—and that's quiz confirmed via We Should All Be Mirandas).

I am panicking that I am running out of time and potential ways to meet the goals in my life like having children. Hello???? The panicking is so not it. It was so nice to know I'm not the only one experiencing this question on a loop. Does anyone else feel like they're having a quarter-life crisis?

"Does Anyone Else Hate Socializing?"

I think this essay of Rallo's really hit the hardest. She discusses how everyone in her life, in her 20s, always appear to be outside and she is always at home, in sweats wondering if she should or should not be experiencing FOMO. She wonders if she is potentially wasting her "golden years" sitting at home. And then she remembers how uncomfortable she feels out at events and the anxiety that comes with it and there's a somewhat realization that those feelings aren't worth doing something we don't want to do.

I struggle with socializing and going out. I want connection—but not surface level loops of the same conversations. My eyesight loss has made being out feel risky, anxiety-ridden. But I realized something deeper: I don't hate socializing. I hate misaligned socializing.

I crave friendships like the ones in Sex and the City or The L Word—intentional, curious, honest. Friends who make time. Friends who want to talk about the hard stuff and throws out Samantha-like advice. Friends who grow together.

Then I worry about how to make these friends when adulthood is already so busy and scattered as is.

The last year or two, I've realized my answer is mostly likely relocation. New cities. New rooms. New people who don't flinch when I asked, "Does anyone else feel this way?" I've come to learn that I need this kind of change but really, until then, does anyone else hate socializing?

Eli Rallo's book is playful, thoughtful, reflective and fun. I didn't relate to every chapter—and that's the point. It made me think about my own life while she explored hers. And sometimes, that's all we really need.

I would absolutely recommend Eli's book because really: if so many of us are asking the same damn questions—about plans, adulthood, time, and belonging—are we actually lost...or are we just finally being honest about our internal mess of "does anyone else feel this way????"

Books I've read:

Attached: The New Science of Adult Attachment and How It Can Find—and Keep—Love by Amir Levine and Rachel S.F. Heller, 304 pages.
Getting Past Your Break Up: How to Turn a Devastating Loss Into the Best Thing That Ever Happened to You by Susan J. Elliott, 272 pages.
Polysecure: Attachment, Trauma and Consensual Nonmonogamy by Jessica Fern, 288 pages.
Set Boundaries, Find Peace: A Guide to Reclaiming Yourself by Nedra Glover Tawwab, 304 pages.
The Anxious Person's Guide to Non-Monogamy: Your Guide to Open Relationships, Polyamory and Letting Go by Lola Phoenix, 208 pages.
How to Stop Breaking Your Own Heart by Meggan Roxxane, 272 pages.
Does Anyone Else Feel This Way? by Eli Rallo, 304 pages.

Books I'm reading now:
I Hate You, Don't Leave Me: Understanding the Borderline Personality by Jerold J. Kreisman with Hal Straus, 336 pages.
The Four Agreements: A Practical Guide to Personal Freedom (A Toltec Wisdom Book) by Don Miguel Ruiz, 160 pages.
The Perfectionist Guide to Losing Control: A Path to Peace and Power by Katherine Morgan Schafler, 323 pages. Click the link to read my thoughts on Schafler's book.
I'm Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy, 320 pages.
Black Friend: Essays by Ziwe, 192 pages.

My book queue:

Don't F*cking Panic: The Shit They Don't Tell You in Therapy about Anxiety Disorder, Panic Attacks and Depression by Kelsey Darragh, 368 pages.
Stop Walking on Eggshells: Taking Your Life Back When Someone You Care About Has Borderline Personality Disorder by Paul T.T. Mason MS and Randi Kreger, 280 pages.
Supporting Someone Polyamorous: FAQs About Non-Monogamy and Allyship for Family, Friends and Loved Ones by Lola Phoenix, 171 pages.
The Art of Letting Go: How to Let Go of the Past, Look Forward to the Future, and Finally Enjoy the Emotional Freedom You Deserve! by Damon Zahariades, 194 pages.
The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma by Bessel van del Kolk M.D., 464 pages.
The Cure for Emotional Unavailability: Discover the Source of Emotional Unavailability Heal and Have Positive, Successful Relationships by Stella Smith, 146 pages.
Half His Age: A Novel by Jennette McCurdy, 288 pages.
It's Not You: Identifying and Healing from Narcissistic People by Ramani Durvasula PhD, 368 pages.
When You're Ready, This is How You Heal by Brianna Wiest, 280 pages.
Disarming the Narcissist: Surviving and Thriving with the Self-Absorbed by Wendy T. Behary, LCSW and Daniel J. Siegel, MD, 240 pages.