20
I’m turning 20 in 14 minutes.
On one hand, I feel quite ready to be turning 20; I am a full-time student with a job and two professional internships, I have a car, a metropass, and a chequing account. I traveled alone for a month this year, and I have been trying to adapt to a healthier lifestyle. I do adult things, so I don’t feel like a teenager. Simple as that.
But then there’s this other side of me that’s freaking out. I think it’s mostly just me realizing that time is of the essence. I feel like 20 is the age where accomplishments cease to be impressive. For example, it’s astonishing when a 16-year-old kills an audition or an interview, but for a 20-year-old it’s like “wow, congrats!”. Being 20 brings with it expectations, and it becomes more difficult to adhere to them.
That being said, I’m really proud of my youthful self. I learned, competed, exercised, traveled, loved, chose my life plan, experienced, enjoyed, lost, and overcame.
Today I tore my room apart and dug up old pictures that I made for my parents, and little writing pieces that I made for school as a kid. It brought back many memories, for example, who my favourite musicians and best friends were, and how much love existed in my family. Looking through these seemingly ancient artifacts actually opened my eyes to how little I have actually changed.
Being 20 doesn’t mean that I’m a new person. I haven’t forgotten my identity. Hell, I still love Avril Lavigne, many of my best friends have not changed, and I am still very close with my family.
Moving into my third decade, I want to remind myself to pause and embrace life’s lemons, because they build character and personhood. That being said, it is also important to remember that life is always forward-moving, each moment a continuation of the next. Over time I will change, but I will not lose myself to adulthood; I am a continuation of my young self. Really, life is like a play/pause button on a remote. You have to pause and appreciate moments as they come so that you can move forward and be present in every moment.
I’m 20 now. Writing this was a great way to spend my last few moments of teenage-hood. I will save this and read it whenever I can, on every birthday until I’m grey.
21 now.
I enjoyed reading last year’s birthday post a lot.
Something about bringing in my birthday with these posts brings me joy. I love being alone when my birthday begins, and reflecting on my life so far. And I am well aware of how cheesy and cliché this post may be, but at the same time, I can’t think of anything else I’d rather be doing as the clock hits midnight. Each year I appreciate more and more the importance of self-reflection. While my friendships and family are the most loved and cherished aspects of my life, I must be comfortable and confident with myself as an individual on this planet.
I have been in a rut lately, feeling like I’m becoming too old to be as unaccomplished as I am. Been turned down 3 jobs in the past 3 months, not moving forward with my career goals, and not really trying hard enough to do so. Making up excuses as to why I haven’t progressed at all. Scared that I am not using my knowledge and talent to its fullest potential. I have fears about my whole life.
21 years ago I came into being, and that’s pretty damn great/crazy/mindblowing/amazing. Each year I become more and more aware (and confused?) about who I am, and I continue to question whether or not I made a wrong turn (or fallen off a metaphorical cliff). So, I am dedicating this year to finding true inner happiness. I will try hard to achieve my goals, both professional and personal. I will shut off my phone and take more time to be present in the moment. I will stop worrying about petty or trivial “problems”. I will take time to become more educated and knowledgable. I need to be alone more, doing things that make me feel at ease with who I am.
I am thankful for so many things, I don’t have the time or the desire to put in the effort to write them down. They are stored in my head, and I acknowledge them as often as I can.
Until next year.
