I’m pretty into being 31. I was super into being 30. There isn’t much I have to gripe about that is age-related. However, the absence of something does not always infer the bounty of its polar point: I’m not exactly celebrating things like not having 23-year-old eye skin anymore, or rejoicing that I’m losing more freewheeling friends to babyhood. This becomes especially apparent when I work alongside girls just graduating college with dewy skin, dabbing concealer on their hickeys and stuff.
Until I was on a work call the other afternoon, sitting on the porch sipping a beer, getting to know a future colleague prior to a meeting. I’d venture to say she’s about 25 or 26, totally sweet, and smart as a tack. “I’m gonna get nosy for a second,” I said, “and ask how long you’ve been at it. How long have you been with the company? When did you graduate?”
“2009,” she says, “Three years ago now. Which makes me totally freaked out,” she laughs.
Freaked out at how much time had already passed? Goals not yet met? It tripped me up for a second.
But rather than notice how farther along she is now than I was then, I immediately said a tiny thank you to Father Time that I wasn’t back there [not 25 in general, just my 25] entertaining that same anxiety. I didn’t enjoy much then without a constant throbbing of failure. I prefer to call it “worrying my way forward,” rather than floundering. I was unsure of what I wanted, wondering why all my bosses hated me, and why my resume was such a disjointed piece of shit.
I came across a small straw worry doll while looking for scotch tape this morning.
It made me think about a quote that’s been circulating recently—worrying is never going to be productive, so why do it?—or something like that. But worrying is somehow built into my framework. And I worry because I care.
Thinking back on how much b.s. I’ve had to go through from then until now—the years-long incubation periods after each failure before the failures are alternately viewed as stepping stones—all that has enabled me to speak confidently about something in the moment.
I realized what a little victory that was. And I thought, dude I don’t want to go backward. Not an inch.
Like anyone, I vacillate. For every old worry I overcome, there are probably 500 new ones. But I don’t really care about that, at least not yet, so I won’t worry about that.
And worrying about worrying sounds like I might inadvertently cause a freak lightning storm that will make cats start walking around on their hind legs, smoking pipes.
Hooray for today, I guess.
-C
Dude, I am in the middle of a 25-year-old’s personal crisis. Nothing really achieved and newly singly (wah), and there is that weird moment when the gals I work with are really awesome and then I realize they are 20 and thus, my baby cousin’s age, and I get weird feelings about my life and my awful resume. So, I don’t know. This post made me feel better!
Also I haven’t commented in a long time, because I am lazy. But hello, you are lovely <3
I was just saying to a friend tonight how good the 30’s are – you’re wiser with less insecurities and anxiety and in general, just way more chill. I enjoy the little moments more in my 30’s – savoring each sip of wine, appreciating the little things and relishing in just being. Nothing superficial, no bullshit, just enjoying life. Guess I’m saying, appreciate your sentiments on the subject – well said!!!!
I remember thinking about how I would *totally* have all that life shit figured out by the time I was 25. Now I’m 28 and half the time I’m still feeling like I’m 18. Life is strange to say the very least.
it only gets better!
We’re in the same boat Care-bear(when it comes to work), but in some strange way I have bonded with these girls in such an amazing way, and I’m easily more than 5 years older than them. It does remind me of how I felt at their ages, and I sometimes I wish I could fast forward their lives to show them how much certain things will not matter, and even though life isn’t going “as expected”, it all happens for a reason, and there will be that moment of contentment. Not to say I don’t have my own freak out moments from time to time. They’re just at a different level now. Thanks for this post. Couldn’t have expressed it better. 😉 xoxo