In one week, I’ll be 25. Excuse me while I go have a mini mid-life crisis…
The past couple of weeks, life has been such a whirlwind tying up loose ends in preparation for my move to San Diego, I haven’t had a ton of time to actually sit down and think about what it means to be 25.
My first reaction is jfd;k;fldjak;fa;s. What. How am I already 25? And, what the hell am I doing. When I was a youngin’, my cousins and I used to play house, school and dance studio all the time. When I was 10 I knew exactly what my life was going to be like. I had my entire wedding planned out. I had the years of when I would be getting married and having babies. Being a Gemini there were always two very, very distinct futures I saw for my life. Neither of which, by the way, are the current life I am living.
Ten-year-old Britt wanted to be one of two things at age twenty-five: famous or to be a mom. In one vision of my life, I was moving to California (hey, I eventually am making it there I suppose) or New York. I was going to be famous. For what, I wasn’t ever really sure. For a bit I thought I was going to be a singer, but once I realized I was tone-deaf that dream had to be retired. Then I thought I could be an actress or a professional dancer, but let’s be honest, I was too scared to ever completely push myself to do anything famous worthy. Oh well.
The second life ten-year-old me saw for myself was being a mom. I’m sure if I go through some old boxes in my Dad’s basement I would find an old notebook that has my future wedding all planned out- date included which happened to be somewhere in the year 2013. Oops. I was to be married at 23 with my first baby at 25. Let’s just pause for a second there. Remind you; I’m turning 25 in a week. I am still pretty much a baby myself, or at least I act like one sometimes. I still need my mom and dad on a daily basis. I need help with my taxes, I need help with my car, I need help making every day decisions like which laundry soap is better at Target. I could never, for the life of me, see myself with child at this point. Still, when I was ten, I had a different vision for what I should be doing.
I will say this- 25 seems like an age where one should know what they are doing with their life. And that is where you lose me. I look at my friends, peers, co-workers; everyone seems to have their lives so together. Married, babies, houses, ‘real people’ jobs, its mind blowing to me. How do they know? How does everyone have it so together? Did I miss something? Did I miss that part of college where they handed out the roadmaps to the rest of life? Because I sure as hell do not have mine!
If I actually think about it, I guess I’m not completely lost. There isn’t anything I would change about my life, totally. However, I would be lying if I said there wasn’t a day that goes by where I don’t think to myself, what do I want to do. Am I doing all I should be? I’m constantly worrying that I’m going to lose time and waste a perfectly good life. Again, don’t get me wrong- I’m not sad or upset with my life. I am perfectly happy with all of my decisions, very few regrets, however, I just worry if a younger version of myself would be happy with the life I am living. I don’t like to disappoint and I especially never want to let myself down.
Here’s what I want, instead of those generic happy birthday texts, call, posts. I want to genuinely know something you wish someone would have told you at twenty-five. Something you wish you would have known, a lesson. I want to use chapter twenty-five to genuinely reflect upon life and it’s entirety. I want to remember what I’ve learned and figure out where I’m going. I’ve heard, if you aren’t completely sure where you want to go, any road will get you there. I like that.
To those that have it figured out- kudos to you. For those of us who just pretend we have it figured out- I think we’re doing okay. Sometimes, the long way around isn’t so bad. I like to think of it as the scenic route. : )
Ready or not, here comes 25.