I turn 26 on Saturday, and I’m truly starting to understand why we start to fear our birthdays as we get older. Believe it or not, it’s not because aging is scary. (I mean it is, don’t get me wrong. It’s definitely in my top 5 fears.) However, I’ve realized it’s more about what comes with that age.
For example, I am now officially off of my parents insurance. I just realized I don’t know anything about insurance, as I’ve never really had to think about it before. I kept my card of the family plan, handed it over when asked, and that was as far as my relationship with health care went.
The older I get, the more I understand how much I don’t understand.
I’ve been so anxious about the fact that I can’t comprehend my new customary adult tasks. It’s resulted in me listening to the Dawson’s Creek soundtrack. Don’t ask, because I can’t comprehend why I’m doing that either. I just needed some angsty teenager, 90s rock in my life.
Currently Playing: “Ironic” by Alanis Morissette
Not understanding a basic life policy (like insurance) is a surefire way to face the fact that you still aren’t quite there yet. Sure, we are “adults.” But, are we adults? I don’t even know if I want to be the “adult” or the adult. I don’t want to grow up too fast, but I also don’t want to get left behind. I’m wondering if my thought process is completely normal, and if every new stage will feel this unfamiliar, and almost eerie.
A Hardly Relevant Complaint: I just want to say that, like the insurance, I have a super love/hate relationship with the Super Bowl. Every year, the Super Bowl falls on my birthday weekend, or on my actual birthday. I spent my 21st hungover in a sports bar, watching the game (just to be social and for the halftime performance). Everyone was all, “Happy Birthday. What’s the score?” What’s sadder is that I didn’t even care to look at the score, so I wasn’t even a part of the conversation.
Every few years shall call for more change. I know they say change isn’t a bad thing (whoever “they” are), but I’ve never liked it much. Even when it’s imperative to my life journey, it takes me a little while to accept it. These annual time-jumps also call for more responsibility. We will further depend on our financial status, our employment status, even our social status (because society thrives off of our dating regimen). These things matter because A) We have to make a living, and B) We hope to make a life. Don’t we? If you are like me, my happiness and dreams are just as valid as my obligations. That’s the worst part. We sometimes get the two mixed up, OR we sometimes focus on the wrong one at the wrong time. I’m constantly asking myself which path I am following, AND if it’s the right one (at the right time).
I didn’t realize my birthday (when I am always blessed enough to be surrounded by good friends) was going to lunge me down this I-hate-adulting rampage. I guess I will just spiral until I die, and may just stop celebrating my birthday all together. Just kidding – it’s not that dramatic – but my anxiety has grown to level 26. I’m hoping I get better with age, like they also say. I’m hoping everything gets better with age. I want my current present (whatever it is) to be exactly where I need to be, and my aching for the past of simpler times only acting as a healthy bit of nostalgia every now and then.
Anyway, Happy Super Bowl Weekend. I least I’m not turning 52.