Picture it, Midwest America 2001
What was my favorite age?
This question intrigued me, so I'm going to try and answer it. Searching my brain backwards and forwards I find I have favorite moments, favorite birthdays, favorite time periods, favorite trips and games, favorite stories, but a favorite age?
…Turning 25 years-old was a good age. It was the first time I finally felt like I had reached the age I was, always feeling older than my peers. Turning 25 was like a Sunday morning in your pajama’s working on a crossword puzzle and drinking a really good cup of coffee, or sitting lazily on the couch watching a movie. Turning 25 was like realizing while sitting among close friends laughing and talking that you have beautiful people in your life and you were one of them. Turning 25 was like finally reaching an age with no milestones except the acceptance that you are what you make yourself. It was comfortable. Turning 25 was like the lines from Paul Simon
“Yesterday was my birthday,
I hung one more year on the line,
my life’s a mess,
I should be depressed,
but I’m having a good time.”
And now that my mind wanders over that year, I find myself asking did the year reflect the age? Was the experience as good as the number? This would bring me to 2001.
Picture it, Midwest Amercia, 2001. The month I turned 25, I was working 10 hours a week at a wonderful Peace organization. I had just quit a job that paid well, but sucked the life from me. It was the moment when I stepped off an old path where I was leading life against the expectation of self and started to lead it for the self. So, I quit my job that did nothing but give me money, benefits, and stress. I had only enough money to pay my rent for three months, food bills, and little else. Pretty much, I gave myself permission to stop and look at myself. This crossroad was an impetus for where I am at now and where I am going. If I hadn’t done this I might be a person who lives life like a crisis, in context to someone else OR (as I swallow hard) leading a passive life on the couch somewhere. I shudder. Don’t get me wrong, I like couch sitting.
Turning 25 was a direction changer complete with jumping off the constructed cliff we all build for ourselves and realizing it wasn’t even there. My goodness, I could give a dissertation on this age and why it is my favorite age. It was also the hardest year of my life, counting Junior High School. Hard in a good way. I started drawing, started to write better prose. I disengaged from drama. I came out to my parents this year (another story to share). I let go of relationships that were all about not being alone. I stopped trying to find myself in crowded spaces. By the end of this age, I made the choice to move out of a house full of nice people to explore my own space and I really didn’t have the option to make it there. I stopped waiting for someone to give it to me. I stopped playing into roles that other people needed from me. But that’s another story. This was also the last year I confused being in relationships as being healthy and value for validation. “Catharses” was the key word for the year and “change” its counterpart.
I went camping and to the beach often.
Turning 25 was my favorite age so far.
…Turning 25 years-old was a good age. It was the first time I finally felt like I had reached the age I was, always feeling older than my peers. Turning 25 was like a Sunday morning in your pajama’s working on a crossword puzzle and drinking a really good cup of coffee, or sitting lazily on the couch watching a movie. Turning 25 was like realizing while sitting among close friends laughing and talking that you have beautiful people in your life and you were one of them. Turning 25 was like finally reaching an age with no milestones except the acceptance that you are what you make yourself. It was comfortable. Turning 25 was like the lines from Paul Simon
“Yesterday was my birthday,
I hung one more year on the line,
my life’s a mess,
I should be depressed,
but I’m having a good time.”
And now that my mind wanders over that year, I find myself asking did the year reflect the age? Was the experience as good as the number? This would bring me to 2001.
Picture it, Midwest Amercia, 2001. The month I turned 25, I was working 10 hours a week at a wonderful Peace organization. I had just quit a job that paid well, but sucked the life from me. It was the moment when I stepped off an old path where I was leading life against the expectation of self and started to lead it for the self. So, I quit my job that did nothing but give me money, benefits, and stress. I had only enough money to pay my rent for three months, food bills, and little else. Pretty much, I gave myself permission to stop and look at myself. This crossroad was an impetus for where I am at now and where I am going. If I hadn’t done this I might be a person who lives life like a crisis, in context to someone else OR (as I swallow hard) leading a passive life on the couch somewhere. I shudder. Don’t get me wrong, I like couch sitting.
Turning 25 was a direction changer complete with jumping off the constructed cliff we all build for ourselves and realizing it wasn’t even there. My goodness, I could give a dissertation on this age and why it is my favorite age. It was also the hardest year of my life, counting Junior High School. Hard in a good way. I started drawing, started to write better prose. I disengaged from drama. I came out to my parents this year (another story to share). I let go of relationships that were all about not being alone. I stopped trying to find myself in crowded spaces. By the end of this age, I made the choice to move out of a house full of nice people to explore my own space and I really didn’t have the option to make it there. I stopped waiting for someone to give it to me. I stopped playing into roles that other people needed from me. But that’s another story. This was also the last year I confused being in relationships as being healthy and value for validation. “Catharses” was the key word for the year and “change” its counterpart.
I went camping and to the beach often.
Turning 25 was my favorite age so far.
posted by GoGo | 4:35 PM
2 Comments:
That is an intriguing question. I just turned 26 last month. It just came and went, no big impact on me. It seems ever since I had children (I was 20 when my first was born), bithdays just come and go with no real impact on me.
Maybe turning 30 will be a big deal for me. I don't know.
Fascinating post! I loved hearing about your year being 25.
I think my best year will be in the future. Aside from the biological clock ticking way too fast...!! :):) - I am enjoying getting older and wiser and more secure in myself, and I think the best is yet to come.
I hope I remember this question in the future, because it is a great one!
JTL
xxx
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