Two Weeks To Go

Birthday CakeIn two weeks I will be turning twenty nine. I am not happy about this fact. In fact I am having rather a lot of anxiety as a result of this fact because I am not ready to be twenty nine.

There is an old saying “idle hands are the devil’s playground” and for me the same goes for my brain. If I am not planning ahead, working things out step by step with a plan then I have time to stop and think. When I stop and think is when things tend to fall apart for me. When I stop and think on the fact that in two weeks I will be celebrating the very last birthday in my twenties I am sad. I am not sad for the fact that I am getting older but I am sad for the fact that I am getting older with very little to nothing to show for it.

People always say that the grass is greener and that you shouldn’t compare your life to someone elses…in fact my best friend Queen Bee assures me that no matter how perfect someone elses life looks it is in fact not so and they may very well be thinking the same thing about mine. Sometimes though when the plans I have don’t pan out in the long term, or when everything is still and I have a moment to think…well sometimes I am guilty of wishing I was someone else for a while.

I never dreamed that by my very last birthday in my twenties that I would still be struggling to pay the bills, that I would still be childless and for all intents and purposes “single”, that I wouldn’t even have my own car or enough spare cash to buy a dress that I liked when I saw it in the shop window…then again I don’t suppose any of us really plan for what we end up with in the end. That’s not to short change what we do end up with but in retrospect what I idealized as my grown up life when I was a child and what I became…well they’re pretty far off. When I was little I imagined that I would be a stay at home mom, that I would be happy with that and that I would have a husband like the man that my grandfather was. A man who would wanted a family, a man who wanted a wife. As I grew up children got pushed back year after year and now I’m almost twenty nine and the concept of having children is still floating further and further away.

I am scared of turning twenty nine. I am scared of turning twenty nine in case it doesn’t bring any more changes, in case all it brings is more of the same and before I know it I’m thirty nine and have missed the boat completely. Ten years seemed like forever as a kid but once you’re grown up it seems to fly by in the blink of an eye. I don’t want to let another ten years fly by. I don’t want to miss out on anymore living. This year, my twenty ninth year, this one is going to be different because I’m hell bent on making it different. This year I will find a way to celebrate me, to reach out, to step out and most of all to grow out of the old me who has already missed out on so much living. I am not okay with my life as it stands and twenty nine is going to be the year that I finally figure it out because I refuse to give in to mediocrity.

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