A friend has been feeling out of sorts for close to three months now. She is young, intelligent, driven and--until recently--very, very vivacious. The kind who can keep the party going long after everyone else has run out of things to say.
But it seems some people pooped her party, and today she is lost. At 22, she feels she is on the losing end.
I'm not really a Dear-Abby sort but if it's any consolation, let me say that things have a way of evening out. I was 22 when I had my first career letdown. The paper I was working for had some money problems, and since our Sunday section was not the most indispensable, we were given the pink slip.
But then, the world didn't stop turning. And up until I decided I've had too much of the city life, I've had jobs--and bosses and friends--from whom I've learned a lot. Jobs, bosses and friends who actually prepared me for life.
In time, the friend will look at this defining moment from a different, distant angle. She will realize that 22 doesn't last forever. That there is a reason, and a season, for everything.
After all, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.