The End of Your 20’s

Mid-mid-life crisis? Yep. That’s where I’m at. When I was younger, I thought people in their 30’s had it all figured out. Some do, I’m sure. But me? My experience has been different. When I was 21, I had it ALL figured out (in my head of course). I was brimming with all the pleasures naivety afforded me:

I had good posture because the world wasn’t weighing me down.
I oozed self-confidence because of all that shallow attention you don’t receive after you’ve landed a ring and two kids.
I kicked ass at work because there were times I could fucking sleep in (human alarm clocks are cute but shit).
My mental health was kind of in check because I had friends and we could see each other on a whim — I can see you on the 3rd Saturday of next month, shit, you have swimming lessons? No Friday of next year doesn’t work, I’ll be tired from the year of getting my ass kicked. Maybe 2032?
My hope was alive and drinking up the endless possibilities that are afforded to you before responsibilities kind of box you in — let’s be real, I’m a wife and mother, two of my favorite things — but that also means I’m not working overseas.
God damn, I was rich $$$ until we got a mortgage and found a daycare that costs more than it.

I know, I sound whiny (probably because I’m whining). I knooooooooow. I’m making it sound like your life stops when you fall in love and have kids (for the record, I believe that’s when my life finally started). But the thing about my early 20’s was I thought I had time because, well, I had a bunch of time. The end of my 20’s? It’s flying by faster than I can see it and I’m PISSED. I’m pissed at young, stupid me who didn’t take that class, invest that $$$, or get that degree and develop a bloody hobby. You see, that would have afforded me and my family, a little more time and security. I know, I know. Everything happens for a reason. I know, regret is borderline useless. I know, there’s still time and possibilities. Blah, blah, blah. I get it. I knooooooow. But I’m fucking tired and it’s harder now than it would have been then to change things.

On the plus side, I do care a lot less about what people think. I also know that things can change quickly — a sign my hope is still alive. He’s probably just taking a nap today (maybe we WILL retire one day). Maybe I did fuck up my youth but my kids, they’re happy. I should do cartwheels in celebration for not fucking THAT up, the most important thing — I won’t because who needs a trip to the chiropractor on a Wednesday when you still have to do groceries?

Thanks for listening.

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