What am I doing with my life?! (Thoughts on my 25th birthday)
In
a lot of ways, I am extremely proud of my generation.
We are braver,
louder and more creative than the one before us; we teach them
important principles and aren't afraid to shout about our political views, in the hope that
someday they will come round to our way of thinking. We also grew up with bookish wonders such as His Dark Materials, Doctor Who and Harry Potter,
and I truly believe that if we hadn’t, printed books may not be
thriving as they are today. We helped bring the spectrum of sexuality
out from the darkened basement and into the public eye, and the term
‘sex-positive’ became a common expression (although annoyingly,
its meaning can often get twisted). And despite growing up with our
parents and teachers warning us of the many dangers online (and this
was before ‘Catfish’ came out) we still went out into
cyberspace and found not just an army of like-minded, supportive friends and a
plethora of fandoms, but also... ourselves. Oh, and we also made the internet
a job! These days, the
biggest companies hire social media managers and digital execs,
bloggers and vloggers are seen as valuable for sponsored content
purposes, and indie businesses are thriving thanks to their tweets
and Instagram profiles. This is because we have
helped the online world grow and become
a brilliant space for
ambitious creatives, driven business people and everyone in between.
All
these brilliant things came about in direct opposition to the
ancient, stale values we were still having pushed on us from a young
age. To this day I still have my Church of England primary school
values burned into my subconscious; a tiny part of me shrieks from
the back of my brain that I need to get married, buy a house and have
babies if I want to really achieve the ultimate goals in a woman’s
life. It’s not a biological clock – it’s a small-minded,
small-town-born gremlin.
Yes,
way back when I wore those charming, checked pinafores and had my
hair scraped into bunchies, I was taught that the optimum age for
‘settling down’ (a negative expression in itself, no!?) was……. 25.
There actually was a time when I had it in my head that by 25 I’d
have a house, a husband (or at least a fiancée) and be planning a
family – while at the same time climbing up a career ladder at
lightning speed, throwing cute dinner parties with my very best
friends (all of whom were in my Year 6 class) and wearing the very
best and trendiest outfits, every day.
Well
now, here I am. Almost 9,125 days old. Living at home with the family,
perfectly single, a degree in the bank, currently not working a permanent contract as I am awaiting even
more surgery, having
already experienced some of the worst health scares imaginable, with
a couple of impressive scars to show for it. I visit friends now
living in European cities, and some closer to home who are all in
different stages of their lives; some are recently married, some
moving into first houses, some expecting bubs, some living with
friends or alone and working out what they want. I also only buy
clothes in sales, and ignore every major fashion trend for fear of
buying into them, only to do so too late or get it completely wrong.
And
let me tell you, I have never been happier.
Okay, that was a bit of an OTT statement – I am definitely happy, yes. I’m lucky. I’m on my path. But I often worry – am I doing life right?!
I
don’t go ‘out-out’ much… in fact, I can count on one hand
(okay, maybe three fingers) the amount of times I’ve been out-out,
drinking with friends and getting a taxi home in the small hours, in
the past 6 months. I’m not travelling the world with a long-term
partner, or taking up interesting internships abroad; I don’t have
any plans to jump on the property ladder in the next decade, and I
don’t have a Pinterest board packed with adorable DIY wedding
ideas. My savings account has been well and truly scuppered in the
last few years, while my current account is screaming in pain all
day, every day.
Every
friend I’ve spoken to about this has joined me in my feelings of
worry and confusion @ life; in some cases even the ones who seem to
really have their sh*t together and #goals mapped out. Because the
truth is, none of us really know what we’re doing. And even if we
do, there’s always a chance of curve balls and spanners being
thrown at us every which way and destroying our carefully constructed
plans within seconds. We’re blagging it. And that’s alright.
Let’s keep on.
I’m
actually quite excited about where I’ll be this time next year,
when I am two days away from 26... no, actually I’m more excited about
the fact that I have no clue where
I’ll be, this time next year. Stay tuned. Happy August 1st,
everyone.
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