I turned 25 on Sunday. It’s the silver age, I hear. Of quarter-life crises and self doubt/realization. It’s the knowledge that I am older than my mother was when she had me. It’s the power that comes with approving of the choices I’ve made thus far.
I have no regrets. I have been incredibly stupid, and shied away from looking myself in the mirror. I have been surprisingly clever and written well-worded letters of commendation to myself in my diary. I have been deliriously happy and in love with the world. I have plumbed previously unknown depths of grief and prayed to die. And yet, right now, I have no regrets.
Through it all, I have written. In diaries, in notebooks scattered somewhere in my room, on this blog and on others’. And so it’s only fitting that I write on this occasion of turning 25.
But what to say?
Never be too busy growing up that you forget that your parents are getting old. I look at my Dad and sometimes feel that he will live forever. His quick wit and his sheer strength seem boundless; when I think of old people, I don’t include him. And yet. There are more greys, more lines, more wrinkles. His spectacle lenses are thicker. I catch myself feeling protective over him, like our roles have been reversed and this big, dark hulk of a man needs to be shielded from all wahala by me with my pixie-like dimensions. Not likely, really but the thought helps me in my interactions with him. I no longer sweat the small stuff like when I was a teen, and predictably our relationship has improved.
Done is better than perfect. Disregarding this, is one reason why I didn’t achieve my dream of writing my first book by age 25. (The other reason was indiscipline). The need for perfection is a dream-killer, and I discovered this too late. Even as I write this, a part of my soul balks. I am Osemhen, it must be perfect. Lol. Wishful thinking.
It’s okay to change your mind. I used to think that being true to myself meant that I never changed my mind once I’d made a decision. To change your mind = inconsistent, lacking integrity, being a wimp. This can be tricky, sha. For instance, if you’ve given your word, you should do your utmost best not to go back on it. On the other hand, there are mind-sets/attitudes that you evolve out of when more information is presented.
And these are the things that are great about being 25.
- Being able to act like an adult without feeling like you’re playing Charades.
- Being able to walk in heels ☺
It’s hard to explain but it feels like I’ve come into my own as a person. I’ve discovered/created myself and yes, it’s work in progress but it’s also a journey I’m very comfortable with. I’m happy with who I am. I’m not the 25-year-old I thought I’d be when I was say, 15. I’m not as selfless with my time as I’d like; I don’t think I volunteer enough or mentor younger people enough. But I’m more confident than I expected.
I made a few resolutions. The best part of having my birthday come around was the opportunity to take stock and reassess my life journey. There were a bunch of personal resolutions but the key one is to stop being afraid of writing.
Yes, I’m afraid.
I’m afraid I’ll start something and not finish it.
I’m afraid that I lack the right inspiration and so I’ll find the writing incredibly boring.
I’m afraid I’ll fail myself.
I’m afraid I’ll fail the people who read me (sometimes, I wonder what you guys like about my writing sef ☺).
I’m afraid I’ll write rubbish.
And so many times, it’s easier to not write and delude myself that I’m just too busy. Well, I’ve thrown that out of the window. I’m going to write, afraid or no, and you guys will just have to deal with the rubbish 😀
I look forward to making memories with my friends and family, and especially J’aime K. I look forward to more stories, and my novel. I’m curious about God’s plans for me and can’t wait to see them unfold.
For my birthday, I ask that you pray for me. And that you forgive my flaws, my vanity, my occasional shyness/indifference. Many thanks. And may lines fall for you too in pleasant places…
p.s. please stop by here to introduce yourself 🙂