My birthday is a month away. Well, actually it was a month away yesterday. And for some reason this birthday has me thinking more. When I was sixteen and thought about being old I thought about being twenty five. Why that was the age I pinpointed, I don’t know. It just sounded like such an old age at that point in my life.
And when I pictured my twenty-five year old self, things were pretty clear. I saw a house. I saw a huge kitchen. I saw a husband and some kids and pets. [how many years did I think were in between sixteen and twenty-five…seriously]. I saw success. I saw stability and clarity. I saw myself in grown up clothes with a grown up attitude.
When I look in the mirror now? I still see that sixteen year old girl. And sometimes I still feel like that sixteen year old girl. Scattered and panicked and frazzled. And when I think of an older version of myself [which is now 40], I see stability. A house. A couple kids. A few pets. I see success.
I wonder how I’ll feel on the eve of that birthday. Will I still feel like my twenty-five year old self? Will I have grown up at all? Will I have stayed young enough that I can still relate to all of this?
Twenty-five. That’s by all standards an adult. The eight year old, twelve year old and sixteen year old inside of me are weeping.
I talked with my mom for a while now about how hard it is to be on our own. You always imagine it will be. But you also imagine things differently for yourself. When I was on the brink of getting married, I never imagined we’d be months away from a lease ending and no direction in sight. I never imagined we’d survive our entire first year of marriage with one of us [rotated…] being out of work. I wasn’t prepared for any of that. Because you never think the hard stuff will happen to you. You can swear up and down that you understand the reality of life but until you see it for real you’re dreaming rainbows and butterflies.
Here’s to living it up for the next month before I’m officially old. :)