Last week I turned 24, and I now definitely have to say I’m in my mid-twenties, and I’m definitely considered an adult by the rest of the world. I mean, I’ve been an ‘adult’ for several years now, but there’s a certain amount of leeway given to folks in their early twenties; the older you get, the more people expect you to have your shit figured out. I’m still working on that one.
Growing older is weird, I’ve decided. Although I may be a year older, I don’t know that I feel that much different. I still feel like a kid pretending to be an adult half the time. I don’t mind ageing, in some ways, as I sure as hell don’t want to be younger again – being a teenager or a student is cool and fun at the time, but as you get older, those people become really annoying. I’ve always had more friends my age or older mostly too, probably for similar reasons. Yet, I also don’t want to get older, as I like being in my twenties, and still being young enough to not have everything figured out. Every year now, I get to my birthday, realise I’m another year older, and start reassessing where I’m at in life, and where I want to be.
But enough on me still trying to figure life out – that’s an ongoing theme that I’m always continuing to work on, and one that I probably write about enough (honestly, there’s probably another post coming on a similar topic again in a week or two, it’s been on my mind a lot lately). Instead of thinking about everything I haven’t done yet, I want to focus on how much I have achieved in my twenty four years. I did all of school, and went and got myself a degree from a pretty good university. I struck out on my own, and have lived in three other countries apart from the UK (France, Hong Kong, and South Korea). I’ve travelled to 36 countries to date, having all sorts of exciting experiences and meeting lots of interesting people while there – as well as having to problem solve my way through whenever something goes wrong, which it inevitably will when travelling! I’ve changed a lot as a person; I’m far more confident, independent, laidback, adventurous, and secure than I used to be. I still struggle maintaining some of those things, when my insecurities or anxieties come creeping back, but I’m working on it.
During your childhood and your teens, you’re still finding yourself and figuring out who you are. While I’m still a ways off of figuring out what the rest of my life will look like, I think I’ve done a pretty good job of understanding myself. I like who I am, I’m comfortable with who I am, and I know why I do the things, and act the way I do. That doesn’t mean I’m perfect, or that I don’t still do or say things I later wish I probably hadn’t, but I can understand and accept how and why I did, and there’s no point in dwelling on them when they don’t matter in the grand scheme of things. I’m no longer trying to be someone I’m not, or trying to emulate others, as I think most of us are prone to doing in our younger years. And I no longer stress about what others think about me (as much. I’m not infallible on that one.), but rather I’ve accepted that the people who want to be in my life, and who I want in my life, will be, and the others don’t matter. Universal popularity is impossible.
Growing up is weird. Twenty four is weird. Life is pretty fucking weird most of the time. But that’s ok. I’ve figured out my past and my present, for the most part. The future is something we can plan for, but no one can ever fully figure out, since you never know what’s coming around the next corner. Life is going to keep moving forward no matter what, and we’re all going to keep ageing. All we can do is keep going, and keep trying.