I turned 25 last week.
Did it bother me that I’ve hit 25…that I’m a quarter-of-a-century old?
Does it bother me that I have about 4-5 strands of grey hair?
That I go to bed by 10 or 11 and can only sometimes stretch it out to 12?
Nah….because, truth be told, I feel way older than 25. And no, it’s not got to do with anything physical such as the few strands of grey hair or freaking out about getting wrinkles or anything as trivial as these.
Rather, I think it’s because of the kind of work I do. I work with 18 year olds whom I perceive as kids…and somehow that makes me feel like I’m about 30-something years old. I see some of their problems and issues which as an 18 year old I never thought I would face. I see little kids having horrific childhoods.
I’ve always been told, even as a teenager, that I am very mature for my age. I never understood that because I can have my silly nonsensical moments.
But now I do.
I feel older than some acquanitances here who are 26 or 27 who still live at home. Who still have mum cook them their meals. Who go out and party because there’s no worry about saving money to pay the rent or the bills. Who drink to get drunk.
Yeah, so I turned 25. But I feel about 30.
And no, it does not depress me. 🙂
I enjoy the independence. I absolutely love my jobs. I wouldn’t change a thing about my life. (Okay, let me correct that a tad — more money would be good!) Bottomline, I’d rather feel 30 or even 40 mentally than be a 20 year old in a 25 year old body.
Until next time,