The Lost Years Theory

I invented this theory

As the end of the year approaches and the gift guides gather, the need for reflection suddenly feels rushed as well. In thinking about my own year… yeah, I think about myself a lot.

I have had a lot of time to think about myself. Time is a dangerous thing. There is just so much of it and then not enough, you get it. So is boredom. That mix creates a constant ache for self discovery. It sends you to books, to podcasts, to friends who are tired of hearing it and some who love hearing it, and eventually to a psychic along the way that tells you life moves in seven year cycles. And then, of course, you have to get sober from those psychics too.

My life has seemingly tracked that way. From sixteen to twenty three I was an assistant to any and many. Twenty three to thirty I produced The Hills and The City. Thirty to thirty seven I did HelloGiggles, and then thirty seven to forty four, well, those, my friends, are my Lost Years.

The Lost Years Theory

The Lost Years Theory is that at some point in your life you will enter a stretch of time where your outer life and your inner life stop matching. On paper things may look fine or even impressive, but inside you feel off script, disoriented, or slightly misplaced in your own story.

Everyone gets some version of Lost Years. Some people do them in college or right after college, when confusion is cute and expected. I did not get that window. I went straight into work and responsibility. It’s a big reason I have been resentful of college culture. I could barely read Heart the Lover because it was triggering to try to understand a college romance. Like, oh cute, you have years to find yourself, must be nice. But please do read that book. I was wrong and I’m probably wrong about clashing over college. So my Lost Years showed up later, after the biggest success of my life, right when I thought I was supposed to have it all figured out.

Now, you could have had big life things happen to you in this time: gotten married, sold your company, had babies, done all the things that should make you feel rooted. But the Lost Years are not about what you did or did not do. They are about losing yourself from yourself. And losing yourself can happen to anyone. It does not discriminate. This theory is here to tell you it happens to the best of us and the worst of us.

When it happens for you is out of your control, or maybe a little in your control, but that’s another essay on free will. I’m just debuting this theory. Only you really know when your own cycle starts or ends, but when you read this, you will know if you are in it.

As I exit my Lost Years and step into a new cycle, the only proof I have is a feeling. How do you know you are exiting your Lost Years? It is a peace of mind that only lost time can buy.

Here are two examples of my Lost Years that paint a real picture of what one will do to figure out Lost Years.

Exhibit A: The Instagram Curse

People will sense you are lost even over the world wild web and they will prey on that. They might even like that about you. I know you will not believe this kind of scam worked on me. I am beautiful and smart and still.

I was contacted by a healer on Instagram who wrote me a DM saying to me that I was cursed. She caught me at a particularly low moment in the day where I had nothing to put my energy toward, and I come from a Moroccan family where superstition can feel like signs. So I thought, well, maybe this woman is the one who will save me. It felt harmless enough.

She told me I had a curse and that she would remove the curse. I did not need to question if I believed in her.. It was 55 dollars, and she asked me to light a candle for forty eight hours. You have to go find those sort of candles at the intuition shop. A place that is cute until it is creepy. But keep in mind I had the time to waste here.

This woman who knew I had a curse also did not have a bank account, but do not worry, her niece did. She did not have Venmo, but do not worry, she had Cash App. Something I was not familiar with and it took me hours to figure out, but keep in mind I had the time. I see now how godless this seems, but while I was in it, it made perfect sense. It was also the perfect secret and what better way to pass time than with a secret. If you are constantly hiding something from people that can take up time too.

Things started to get freaky with this woman when she called back to say the curse was a strong one and she needed me to get two candles. Thinking back it is funny that I never even asked about the curse. She had just tapped into something I felt was true. It was easier to feel cursed than to feel lost.

Exhibit B: Serious About Change

As soon as I sold my company, a seeming highlight of my life, I immediately checked myself into the Hoffman Institute. The Hoffman Institute is a week long residential retreat in Northern California where you hand over your phone, sit in a room with strangers, and work on your childhood for sport. I did this before it became popular in my circles, and let me tell you, it is popular in my circles.

I have nothing negative to say about it. I am sure it changes lives, even if only for the brief time you are offline. I still use the app sometimes. They have great meditations. They have their own theory there called transference. Transference is a psychological process where past emotional patterns are activated and applied to a current relationship or interaction.

So I went to this non descriptive farmland in Northern California and with about fifty other strangers went to work on myself, like their motto, when you are serious about change. I was ready for change. I am not sure I was serious about it, but again I had time to wonder if I was. During the week we worked on ourselves from morning to night in small groups.

During the week we were not allowed to read or work out or have our phones. They even say you are not supposed to masturbate. I know this because a guy in my group really had a hard time with this rule and in small groups wanted to talk about it, like, all the time. Basically you cannot do anything that would distract you from your feelings.

There was this woman from Denver in her mid forties, very fit, very marathon energy. She was jonesing all week to work out. She kept asking if she could go for a little jog or a little hike, and our teacher had to calmly tell her no each time. I clocked it, but mostly as, wow, I have no desire to work out, but cool that she has that kind of kink.

At one point we all gathered in a room and you had to go into the center and people would tell you if they had transference on you.

Here is how it works. You have to say it as, “I experienced you as,” then the comment, and then, “You reminded me of my said parent, mother or father, who reminded you of that.” You are not supposed to insult anyone or hurt their feelings. Some people had lines of people, really aggressive energy. I had one woman.

So this woman I had not talked to all week the one jonesing to workout raises her hand and says, “I feel a transference on Sophia because I experienced her as fat and lazy and it reminds me of my mother who had the potential to be fit and did not.”

I truly did not know what to say. The room gasped and I had tears in my eyes. The teacher quickly interrupted and said this is not about disparaging looks, that is not an experience. I was standing there in the center of the room, speechless.

Then a sixty four year old man from Michigan, a grandfather, belted out, “I have a transference on her for being mean to what could be my daughter.” The room erupted into chaos and the woman started to hysterically cry and ran out of the room.

Everyone came over to comfort me, but I was embarrassed. I did not ask for this. For the next few days this woman stalked me across the property to apologize, to tell me how hard it was for her to feel ashamed that she said that, and I just could not give it to her.

By that point I could not wait for the retreat to be over. Another Lost Year continued.

I have done plenty of things in my Lost Years that I will write about more because I have to laugh about it, but here are two exhibits. If any part of this feels familiar, consider this your sign you might be in your Lost Years too. And if you are just getting out of it, I welcome you. It will all make sense.

If you are in your Lost Years

If you are there now, here is what I suggest.

Tell the truth about it. Give it a name. Call it your Lost Years. It is less scary once it has a title.

Keep a record. Notes app, journal, voice memos. You will want this material later.

Make a quiet rule for yourself that you do not make forever decisions on your worst days. You are lost, not cursed.

Find one or two people who know where you are and can laugh with you about it instead of trying to fix you.

Let some experiments be small. A book, a retreat, a weird meditation app. Your entire life does not have to be on the line every time you feel restless.

If you are in your Lost Years, I am waving from the edge of mine and telling you, you are not alone. If you are just getting out, come sit with me. We will compare notes.