I attempted to begin this post last summer, shortly after turning twenty six and entering the dreaded "late twenties." I wanted to capture my feelings: a mix of nostalgia and anxiety, with a slight sense of gratuity regarding my station in life: mid twenties with no "real" responsibilities, a burgeoning career and loving boyfriend. I was pretty convinced that I had chosen the right path, and almost felt superior to those who had gone in other directions. However, in the time that has passed since turning twenty six, I think I have learned a few more things: my path is right for me, but it is not for everyone.
It's apparent that my twenties have been the most significant decade for me yet (and that's still with 3.3 years to go), but that goes without saying: ages 0-10 were spent eating, crying, sleeping, watching Disney movies and being scared cutting my hair would hurt. Ages 11-20 were definitely the most formative, from long haired tomboy to college cheerleader with a brief pit stop at Hot Topic in between--those ten years took me on an adventure I would never like to relive, but am glad I went through it.
And then you hit twenty, and the decisions slowly become more pronounced. Your sense of responsibility starts to reflect your character. And you become held accountable, more and more, for what you are doing. Suddenly, behavior that was expected and tolerable at twenty-two makes you look like a trainwreck at twenty-five. You begin to walk this very fine, indecipherable line; where you must define yourself and your priorities with the choices that you make.
So, me?
I chose to always buy birth control, even when I didn't have health insurance.
I chose to move in with my last boyfriend, even when marriage was not even a thought in my mind with him.
I chose to tell my CEO "I will go anywhere that you tell me to go" in regards to travel.
I chose to open a multitude of credit cards and bury myself in a little debt at twenty-four, because I sure-as-fuck wasn't moving home post-breakup.
I chose to live in apartments with friends. And the occasional Craigslist stranger.
I chose to date a boy in California despite the distance.
I chose to walk this blurry line of adulthood by working my ass off for my career, and daftly spitting in the face of all other responsibilities.
It's mind boggling to think that, had I chosen differently just once, my life could be miles from where it is. I could be in North Andover still, perhaps with a couple of kids (yikes). I could be with the ex still. Or the other ex. Or that other one. (STFU). I could have not relentlessly pursued a job, or blown this one, and could still be waiting tables. I could have let Matty get away because of the whole opposite-coast thing.
But I learned, in the past six-or-so years, that the path that falls before you is usually meant to be taken. I guess one could call that fate.
I call it stumbling through my twenties, pausing only for kisses, beers, and lessons learned.
0 comments