Birthdays

Okay, so I started this post back around my birthday - my 25th. Several months have since passed, and I still find myself telling people I am 24 and thinking it is true. I wonder why this is, because I wasn't so fond of being 24 either. My boyfriend oftentimes has to remind me of my true age, something I'm also not particularly fond of. Am I going to be one of those 42 year olds who tells everybody their 28? Quizas, quizas, quizas.

I would have happily vomited all over myself in public if it meant that I wouldn't have had to turn 25. It would be well worth the humiliation. When I began this post, I had nothing good to say about turning a year older, and I still really don't. I've come to terms with the fact that every birthday after 21 is just another step in a downward spiral over which I seem to be losing total control. I'm over that, but I still envy people who really celebrate their birthdays, choosing instead to honor their new number; Hell, I'm still hanging onto 24, even though I'm now closer to 26.

My boyfriend recently celebrated his birthday (he is slightly older than I) and complained that though he is approaching 30, he hasn't done anything with his life. Though I look pretty accomplished on paper, I feel much the same way. (I was recently informed that, according to my resume, I had been "a busy girl.") However, I am back in school; I still don't really know how to do anything; I don't know (or perhaps I don't remember) how to think; I still look awkward in most of my clothes; and I still don't know what I want to do with my life.

About that last one: I had a student (I teach college freshman) ask me the earlier this year, "What do you want to be?" and the only thing I could think was "When do people stop asking me that question?" You would think after some point people just stop asking, but they don't. If it's not my dad, or my boyfriend, or my sister then it's my 18 year old student. The worst part is that I have spent the last seven years trying to figure that out and though I'm getting closer, I have no respectable answer. To my student, I responded, "A badass," which only got me unenthusiastic laugh, but at least it got her off my back.

There are good things about getting older; I recognize that. Getting older means you get to have deeper relationships with people. I recently realized that I have known my best friend Tasha for 12 years; and my other best friend / roommate extraordinaire Lisa for 8 (some say we're practically married). And it means I have been in a relationship with my boyfriend for about 3 and a half (don't get me wrong, there are some months that I'd rather not count). I don't fight with my sister every time I talk to her anymore (though we still have our fair share of brawls). My dad now listens to me before he inveighs against all of my decisions. And my brother actually asks me for advice every once in a while. I consider those relationships accomplishments because managing and maintaining them feels like a full time job that I know is time well spent. And, it is true, the richness of these relationships develops only with time. Getting older is a necessary component.

But it also means that I need to start making real decisions, ones that matter, ones that have a real bearing on my future, ones I feel far too immature (and frankly far too young) to make. Do I want to get married? When? Babies? Where should I raise them? Do I want to have a job that requires me to work all the time? Where should I settle? How far from my family? How important is my career? How many years to I want to spend at my next job? Should I move somewhere to be with my boyfriend? Do I have to start actually thinking about someone else's needs when making decisions? Does he think about mine?

I fear even discussing many of these quesions. Many of them are the things I whisper to myself late at night like a crazy person when I know no one is listening. But I remember Lisa's sage, if harsh, advice. GROW UP.

While I don't feel as though my 20s are coming to a close (hey, I'm still buying used furniture off of craigslist), in a sense I feel as though some of the adventure (and concurrent stress) that was supposed to characterize the decade for me is beginning to fade into a flurry of fear and excitement regarding...could it be...stability????

26 is going to be a tough one. I can already tell.