I’m turning 25 in 12 days. I feel a little apprehensive, and I know I’m being silly. I can’t help it! I’m officially in my mid-twenties. I’m about to have a meltdown! It’s entirely selfish, I know. 25 is in no way old. Another 20-something whining about her birthday. Big deal.
Today I’ve been thinking back on the past five years of my life. As I closed out my teens, I was on the “right track” – in college, working part time, keeping things together. But when I turned 20, everything suddenly went off track. I left CBU, dated a MUCH older man, went back to CBU, went through a few years of financial worry and stress, moved in with a new boyfriend (that claimed he was a hit man? What the heck, Steph!?! What were you thinking?!?), and then – at 23 ½, I met Matt. Matt changed everything. I settled down, mostly. I attached to him as if he was the last drop of water in
And that makes me excited to turn 25, to see what’s around the corner in the next 5 years. So I will just keep this in my head for the next 12 days, and enjoy my birthday. I will revel in the fact that I have survived 25 years, when so many do not. I will be somber, realizing that I may not be able to enjoy the next 25 years, for my life may end in 10 years, or in 10 days. And I will relax, stop reminding my husband to buy me flowers, and let this celebration carry me over into another year of happiness, sorrow, and contentment.