Five Years

As my friends and I have evolved from teenagers, to young adults, to full fledged adults, I’ve heard the phrase “I wonder where we’ll all be in five years” too many times to count. It’s a legitimate question. I think most people are naturally curious to know what their future will hold. A new job? A new relationship? New friends? Old friends leaving? A big move? The list could go on and on depending on whom the conversation is with.

Recently, I was having one of those conversations, but when that statement came up, it had a different ring to it. It was no longer delivered with a breath of excitement, but almost a sigh of pain. The words were the same as they always were, but the underlying tone expressed what seemed like a fear of “What if nothing changes in the next five years? What if I’m in the same position five years from now that I am today? What if I’m still trying to figure out what to do with my life?”

The phrase that I’ve heard over and over stirred up new emotions in me. I suddenly felt compelled to stop hesitating and start living my life with more purpose and passion. Hearing the sadness in this persons voice motivated me to never be one of those people who talked about the future with fear, but rather with excitement and passion. Five years is a lot of time, and there are endless possibilities for what could happen in the next five years, but instead of focusing on what could happen, I dove into what has happened. I was curious to know what, if anything, has changed for me in the last five years. It was a bittersweet trip down memory lane.

At the beginning of 2004, I was wrapping up my senior year of high school. I graduated early in February and started working full time as a PR intern. I was living in the basement of my parent’s house, making frequent trips to visit my closest friends in West Chester. I was nineteen years old. I had never been in a serious relationship. I had never lived away from home. I had dreams of one day leaving my life in Pennsylvania behind and jetting off to Los Angeles to jump-start my career as an actor. Although I’ve always been told I’m wise beyond my years, I was very naïve to what life really was at that time. I wasn’t motivated. I wasn’t fearless. Even though I had deep determination for something more, I wouldn’t say I was a very determined person. (Although I tried to convince myself that I was.) I carried around a low self-esteem. I honestly believed that people didn’t like me. If you know me on any personal level, you probably would never believe any of this, but that is the cliff notes version of 2004 Gentry.

Since then, I’ve had nine jobs ranging from communications, to being a “manny”, to working as an extra. I’ve also been unemployed. (Somewhere between being a nanny and working as a financial intern, I took a “sabbatical”. I now refer to that as my summer of excuses.) I moved across the country and back. In fact, in the last five years, I’ve moved seven times. I did go to Los Angeles to jump-start my career, but I ended up jump-starting a long, deep, intense look at my inner man. I’ve lived on my own and with roommates. I’ve dated, but I was never been in a serious relationship. I’ve lost friends. I’ve made new friends. Most of my closest friends now live in other states. In fact, out of all my friends, I was the one with big dreams of getting away. Now, I’m the only one still in Pennsylvania. I loved God. I’ve questioned God. I’ve walked away from church. I’ve come back with a new, better perspective on faith. I’ve spent months wanting to hide away from the world. I’ve also spent months traveling the world.

All in all, the last five years have been amazing. Challenging. Refreshing. Depressing. Inspiring. Lonely. I have grown so much personally, and I would never take back any of it.

So what’s the bitter part?

Even with all that has happened, I’m exactly where I started in so many ways. I live in my parent’s basement. I have goals of moving to Los Angeles to jump-start my career. (Notice I said goals, not dreams. I’m actually a very determined person now.) I’m still single. I still fight off depression with the best of them. But it’s okay.

Yes, it’s okay. It’s okay because I may still live in my parents basement, I may still be working a job that isn’t where I know I belong, and I may be lonely, but I am not the naive 19 year old kid anymore. I’ve grown up. I’ve learned. I’ve failed. I’ve succeeded. Most importantly, I’ve discovered that as long as I have my faith in Jesus, I have peace. And I have a hope that amazing things will come my way. I believe that the last five years were just prep for the next five. I know that amazing opportunities are right around the corner.


I will never have to be one of those people who sigh in fear when they say, “I wonder where we’ll all be in five years.” Where have you been? Where are you going? What are you waiting for?