Mourning 22 

3 months ago I was standing in front of my mirror curling my hair when a terrifying question popped into my mind: “Wait, how old am I??” Seriously. And to make matters worse, I had to do math to answer that question. And then it hit me. I had been 23 for 3 months at that point. And now it’s been 6 months and I can’t seem to find out where my 22nd year went.

Turning 22 didn’t feel like too much of a big deal. I kind of felt like I wasted my 21st year, but that didn’t matter very much to me. And then I turned 23 and apparently my mind just could not accept that.

The difference between 22 and 23 seems to be a lot of body aches. At 22, I could wear high heels all day, everyday at work. At 23 my feet are starting to tell me, “Maybe go every other day.”

The difference between 22 and 23 is a lot of appointment-making. I have to be at the dentist at this time. My annual lady exam is around what month? Who is my primary care physician??

The difference between 22 and 23 is a Taylor Swift song.

The difference between 22 and 23 is paying more bills. When is this due and how much will I be penalized for it being late?

The difference between 22 and 23 is an hour earlier bedtime. Don’t mess with my sleep schedule or my after-work routine!

The difference between 22 and 23 is that now I’m about to turn 24 and I just started to realize that I’m 23. When I was a teenager, I thought that 24 was the age that you had it all figured out. At 24 I would be in some glamorous career, working my way up, engaged, and living in a cute, little apartment; and of course, I would be wise as hell.

Now that 24 is six months away, I’m thinking, “Well shit.” My “career” is not glamorous, there is no room to grow and even though I’m applying to jobs every single day, I have not gotten any nibbles yet. I am working on getting a cute, little apartment, but don’t even get me started on Denver’s housing market. And engaged? Well… that’s not really up to me. So… “wise as hell” is just a fallacy.

I need to focus more on myself rather than comparing my points in life to my friends’. Like I said in a previous post, “Flowers don’t compare themselves to the flower next to them. They just bloom.” And yes, my closest friends are kicking ass right now in their adulting journey. They are staring their dreams straight in the face and saying “I’m coming for you.” I feel disappointed when I think about what I could be doing, and then think about what I actually am doing. I’m disappointed when I think about the dreams that I’m not accomplishing, the things I’m not doing to move forward, and then I think about the new dreams that I have made, and I remind myself to “just bloom.”

Turning 23 sucks. It’s no big deal, there’s no catchy pop song about it, and sometimes you don’t even want to admit how old you are; but at the end of the day, even when I feel like my life is zipping past me, measured only in blinks and weekends, I know that I am still young. And I still have the world ahead of me. I think.

And when I get really down and disappointed about my current spot in life I remember that Howard Schultz didn’t even start in the coffee business until 29, he was a salesman.

 

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