I am days away from turning 25. The earth has been blessed with my presence for a quarter-century. I’m not upset about getting older. But I am upset about leaving 24.
I was upset to leave 2007, as it was such a great year for me, and I guess that goes hand in hand with not wanting to leave 24. It was good times. I don’t think I’ve been as happy as I have been in this last year since I was 12 and 13 (honestly, I look back VERY fondly on those years).
High school (13-17) was alright. It was good. I was by no means popular (mostly because I didn’t smoke or drink), but I had great friends and I had my ballet and I was good at school. But I lived at home with my very abusive mom and my very absentee dad, and that sucked.
University (17-21) was horrible. Absolute hell. I moved away from home, lost my grandpa, had no friends and eventually lost my mind. Ha, you think I’m kidding? Well, that’s for me to know and you to contemplate. I had to move back home for three months, as I was so unwell I couldn’t care for myself and couldn’t stay with the boyfriend, since he had a full time job and I needed a full time caregiver. So, needless to say, THAT sucked.
Post-Uni (21-22) was hard. Very hard. I had to pick up all the pieces of my scattered life and spend most of my waking hours coming to terms with what had happened (which no, I am not divulging) and sorting through it. I had to take a totally shitty retail job for 8 fucking dollars an hour, since I couldn’t handle the stress of a real job. I had to decide where the hell I was going to live my adult life, as I realized bouncing back and forth between Saskatchewan and Ontario wasn’t feasible. I spent a lot of time and effort getting my shit together and it seems to have paid off.
23 and 24 have been good years. I’ve made amazing friends. I’ve settled into a routine, I love where I live, I’ve essentially cut myself off from my mom, I’m good with money, I’ve found my comfort zone. I’ve found things I love to do…blogging, knitting, gabbing with my girls, fussing over my puppy, blah blah blah.
I’ve never been one who cared about birthdays. I think my last birthday party was in grade 3. But I’ve had such a good year this year, that I’m scared to move ahead. I’m scared of the inevitable changes that will crop up and that I can do nothing about. I’ve had SO MANY moments this year where I’ve stopped and looked around, or had a secondary thought going while I’m cracking up over something and I’ll think (as hokey as it sounds), ‘Don’t look now, but this is the best time of your life.’
I remember when I was sick, I would wish so badly that I could be like the people I saw crossing the streets……..where I could look at their eyes and see that at that moment, they were engrossed in where they were and were happy about it. They weren’t stuck in the past, they weren’t worrying about the future, they weren’t stressing about something they couldn’t affect, they were just BEING. I’ve managed to get to that point and I’m truly happy with my life right now. But, in true Talea style, I’m now starting to worry about when the end will hit.
All good things come to an end, blah blah blah. The age of 24 is about to do just that for me. I don’t want to be one of those losers who looks back on a few particular years of their life and gets stuck in it, tells the same stories over and over again and wishes they could go back to it. I want my good streak to continue and I’m terrified that it won’t.
Wah wah wah Talea. You’re bitching about something that hasn’t occurred yet? Yes, yes I am. This is what I do.
I need you all to tell me that it’ll still be good. It might also help if you all celebrate my birthday (the 28th) by sending me things. I dont care what really. Money, food, booze, whatever you feel like. Email me, and I’ll let you know where to ship all the goodies to. Come on! Give me something to look forward to! Ha.
I may getting older, but I’m not getting any less selfish. At least some things will never change. And I find comfort in that.
Seriously. Send gifts.