I keep waiting for my existential crisis.
32 is here, and it once again came without wailing and gnashing.
I had a minor freakout when I noticed 30 was approaching, but not because it was 30. It was because I was childless and 30. (I had always set a goal for myself to have a child by the time I was 30. My mom had me when she was 29 and I remember being so afraid that she wouldn't be around to see certain milestones.) Here it is, two years beyond. I'm still childless, and I'm no longer freaking out. I'm good with it for now. It will happen when and if it is meant to.
There are several people that I know (and probably millions more that I don't know) who think they have to have things accomplished by a certain point.
I find that, for me, limiting.
If I'm supposed to have my career figured out by 25, number one I'm late coming into the game, and number two I have so many questions. What if I get into something and I'm not happy? What if I find something I'm passionate about at the age of 50?
I like to keep my doors open. Or, I like to open the doors myself and when I'm ready.
Of course, there are some doors that will open whether you are ready for them or not. The trick is to not look too surprised.
There will be other doors that you will shut and then nail boards between the jambs with some dire warning painted across them. Sometimes the ghoul beyond will find its way out. If it does, just hunker down and prepare to fight. That just means that you weren't meant to be done with it.
That isn't to say that the folks who hold themselves to those age-based standards are wrong or silly or whatnot. It just means that they are holding themselves to different (and some might say more anxiety-producing) standards than I am. And that's fine. I'm just trying to go with the flow. And that's fine, too.
These are the things I've learned in my 31 years of living.
I can't wait to see what I learn in this 32nd.
A relevant song:
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