7-year itch...with myself
Everyone's life has cycles and mine happens to be 7 years. What is yours?
"The seven-year itch, as it's called, is a term that describes feeling restless or dissatisfied in a relationship — typically at that seven-year mark." -- Cleveland Clinic
For my 40th birthday party, I invited some close friends to The Bazaar bar at the Ritz Carlton for a celebratory toast. For the ease of ordering throughout the evening, I pre-selected a few cocktails for my friends and decided to pick a few based on some of my life's best, most memorable years. I paired each year with flavors that best represented those years, and to my surprise, I found that the three years I selected were seven years apart: 21, 28, and 35.
This realization sent me down a rabbit hole of reflection on what made these years especially memorable. During each of these years, I felt reinvigorated, ready to take risks and welcome any opportunity that came my way. I noticed palpable differences in how I perceived my identity, outlook on life, and confidence levels. Was there a secret moon phase that coincided with my existence, looping every seven years (I have many thoughts about astrology, which I'll share in the future)? Or do I have a repeated 7-year itch in a relationship with myself that propelled me to shake up the relationship?
Each of our lives holds cycles and patterns. For some of us, they might be decades long; for others, a much faster pace, all determined by you. Mine is seven years long, it turns out. It takes me 3-4 years to settle into a new role/identify/phase and another 2-3 years to determine my next phase and work vigorously towards it. Then, in each of my seventh years, I viscerally feel the tingle of excitement and a profound seismic shift in my life. What does your cycle look like? Here's how I learned about mine and what I decided my next seven-year cycle will be about because, baby, 2026 is my next phase peak, and it’s coming!
Juliette at 21
Cocktail flavor: milagro blanco tequila, magdala, pomegranate-hibiscus-red wine, reduction, lime, salt air
Served: in a coupe, red and pink
I was living in Los Angeles close to the beach (hello salt air!), graduating from UCLA with my dual bachelor's degree in neuroscience and physiological science. I knew I wanted to go to graduate school. Still, I debated other employment options, one in retail (surprise!) and another in a pharmaceutical company supporting clinical trials. Whatever I decided, I knew I would be able to get. I went out with my girlfriends every weekend, living our Hollywood nightlife dreams! Each of us was applying for respective graduate schools during the day, and at night, we talked endlessly about where the next few years would take us.
Sure, I had big decisions to make. I was earning barely above minimum wage at the retail associate and research assistant jobs, and I had daunting application processes ahead of me. But I knew all that was temporary and that I had prepared myself for the challenge.
The work I put in the years prior led to this certainty about my options after graduation: I had outstudied many of my peers to get the dual degree, out-researched for my senior thesis, won first-place awards in both departments and earned fantastic grades and test scores. I was confident I could qualify for any application process.
Juliette at 28
Cocktail flavor: junmai sparkling sake, roku gin, cava, Japanese citrus, lemongrass, grapefruit, oka kura sweet bermutto
Served: thin, light glass with garnish
2012, I graduated from my PhD program and moved to New York. That year, nothing could get me down. I don't ever remember feeling sad or stressed or tired even though objectively I should have been (aside from graduation!): my net worth was very, very negative, I was breaking up with a boyfriend, moving to NY, where I was moving into a flex apartment (for non-New Yorkers, this was a living room converted into a room by a divider) that had so many dead roaches I had more roach traps than closet space, and constantly felt out of place in a new corporate job. But all I felt was happiness. I was bubbly, light, and refreshed, just like this cocktail. Every criticism from my new job fed my hunger to prove myself. I was happy to be single with no expectations. I was just excited to have a door outside my "bedroom."
What led to this level of optimism? For about a year or two before 2012, I decided not to pursue an academic career after completing my PhD. This decision motivated me to work even longer hours to complete my Ph.D. within five years and secure a job before graduation. Having achieved these two significant goals, I was confident I could do anything, especially in New York, where I had the opportunity to redefine myself.
Juliette at 35
Cocktail: Torres 20-yr brandy, rye whiskey, east India sherry, sweet vermouth, lavender bitters, rested in goat leather
Served: Serious tumbler with some character
Life became more serious as I approached my mid-thirties. I excelled in my career, climbed up the ladder in consulting and finance, and worked at renowned organizations with impressive job titles. I felt confident in my corporate prowess and thought it was time to use them for a cause I believed in. Additionally, it was time for my identity to be defined by a mission I believed in rather than the institutions I was affiliated with. Furthermore, I realized my reputation held enough influence to contribute to the right cause. My networking, personal brand, and hard work were paying off--opportunities that resonated with my scientific background and personal mission were becoming available. For the first time, I can feel my world taking shape as I imagined it. Or I have worked to define it.
What did these three time periods have in common?
My unwavering positivity and delusional level of optimism marked these three years. More importantly, leading up to each of these three years, I was relentlessly focused on setting myself up for possibilities, and I sincerely believed that the universe would reward me with opportunities. Honestly, the years that led up to these three years feel like painful blurs. As much as I paint these three years with happiness and optimism, I struggled, fell ill from exhaustion, and isolated myself leading up to them. But when these years came, I embraced every relationship, incident, and criticism like it was the universe's unique way of rewarding me.
Based on this pattern, 42 will be a phenomenal year for me. This phase will be about expressing myself more fully, finding or building a community, and sharing my ideas with folks who would find them helpful. In 2026, I will finish another Juliette-moon cycle, and I am itching to wrap up my seven-year relationship phase with myself.