I have officially been 27 years old for two days now. Weird. Super weird. Getting older the last couple of years continues to stress me out. Stop-I know what you’re thinking- “27! You’re still so young!” Yes, yes, so I’ve heard. It still stresses me out.
When I was 24, I began writing a book knowing that my 25th birthday was approaching and I hadn’t accomplished anything real in my life. I finished the first draft of the book before my birthday, and I DID feel accomplished. I started editing. I listened to review after review and made change after change. I took away, I added. I created this beautiful little story that I love dearly and will always cherish.
And then I got scared. I stopped editing. I stopped believing that my pretty little book was worth anything and I stopped attempting to get it published. Then I turned 26 and I stopped writing almost altogether. I had ideas, but seemed incapable of making anything out of them.
I joked a lot in the few weeks leading up to my 27th birthday that it was going to be 26 Part 2, because I still felt like I hadn’t accomplished anything. Turning yet another year older and feeling like my life was out of my control and pathetic, I wanted to hide my head in the sand. I couldn’t stand the thought of admitting that I was 27 years old and still living with my parents, still stuck in a dead end job, still blocked from writing, still alone. But I’ve never been someone who has presented myself as anything other than who I am, so I figure I just need to get over all that shit and focus on being happy, no matter where I am in life, no matter how unsuccessful I feel or appear to the world.
I made a new friend this past Friday night, while I was out singing karaoke to celebrate the blessed event. She asked how old I was turning and I gave her the joke answer: 26 part 2. She said something to me that I hope I can learn to believe in. She said that I should be excited to be who I am right now- that this year of my life is going to be amazing and I should be proud of everything I’ve accomplished in my 27 years. She also said that I write like a hummingbird and then gave her guy friend my phone number! We were both a little tipsy- but the sentiment holds!
So anyways. I’m going to try and embrace year number 2-7. If you see me complaining, you have my permission to smack me.