25

Since I last wrote here I reached 25 years old. I know that in the grand scheme of things it doesn’t really seem that old- I’ve still got the majority of my life to live. But it’s the biggest number I’ve ever had as my age.
I think 25 should be the age we define adulthood in the modern world. By 25 the majority of people have completed their education, have some idea where their career is heading some beginnings of a family of their own. Most people have found their place in the world by 25 and I havn’t.
I’m not going to go on about that too much today, I’ve discussed the ins and outs of my so called life on this blog before. I felt though like some sort of imposter as I turned 25. How could I claim to be this age when I feel so away from it? I’m ostensibly not much different to how I was when I was 15, only with less acne and more nasal hairs (that’s a thing now apparently).
As well as the actual number, the whole idea of a birthday makes me uncomfortable. It’s the one day of the year where those around you explicitly show their love for you. Part of me feels like I’m not worthy of that, that I’d rather everyone just forgot about the whole thing. The smaller part looks at the number of cards which dwindles each year and the token presents I’ve received and wonder if that’s all the impact I have on people. It’s a paradox of wishing for no celebrations but being disappointed in the lack of celebrations, followed by a hatred of myself for both those feelings.
About six weeks ago I went to the hygienist (a horrible ‘service’ at the dentist where someone stabs your gums until they hurt and inform you of your teeth brushing inadequacy. I sometimes think even the smiley women on toothpaste adverts would get told off by their hygienists). I walked into the room to discover that the hygienist was younger than me. It’s actually rare that I have much dealings with a professional of any sort but here’s was someone with fairly extensive medical training (I assume anyway) who was younger than me.
I suppose that will only happen more and more. For me though it’s another reminder of my failings. There right in front of me is someone who is making a success of their career and they are have had several years less in which to manage it. I hate these people for their success and then hate myself for hating them.
I’m trying to worry less and just get on with things. There’s so many small opportunities I don’t even try to take up because I’m too concerned about the ‘what ifs’. It’s something which has got worse to the extent I find myself unable to sleep because of something which could potentially happen in six months time. I’m trying to force myself out of this, making myself make the right decisions and not worry about the minor potential consequences. Life is too short for that.
I have aspirations to write more blog posts here. There’s a lot going on with the world and I find myself having strong opinions on much of it. I’ve usually got some idea for a blog post in my head but rarely end up writing it. I guess that’s what this post is all about. At 25, it’s time to stop thinking and worrying and just get on with it.

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