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| Picture from my birthday dinner :) |
I turned twenty-eight this year.
For the past three years, I have felt the fear in my heart related to my age. I had started repelling the thoughts about being 25/26/27 yo and experienced an awkwardness when anybody talked or asked me about it. I guess conditioning is deep-rooted in our systems. We're all expected to marry at a certain age/settle in our careers/think about managing a household/know how to cook meals/earn good/think in a certain way, in a certain direction/worry about growing older/changing skin, hair, body, hormones/worry about not finding a partner/worry about not being able to find one/be a part of everything/do all the conventional things, etc. etc. Basically, being fine AF to put up a show anywhere we go. Ugh. Age is not just a number, apparently. A lot of things are involved here.
But, over the same three years, I started focusing more on my own self. One thing at a time. I slowly started discovering the dainty details about my personality and my thought process. Some observations happened accidentally, some were too striking. I observed how I respond to hatred, to mean comments, to love and how I actually feel when I am approached by someone randomly at a cafe. Ah. Do I really want to give them my number? No.
I now know I do not procrastinate everything - only workouts. I know how exactly I crumble inside while listening to/reading humans behaving insensitively with nature and with animals. I grew up a vegetarian because of the home environment, but I questioned, researched, talked to a lot of people only to figure I am a vegetarian by choice because I really feel close to the animals, and eating them is not something I'd ever prefer.
I learned that I am paranoid about locking the car as soon as I get in, but not paranoid about anybody driving rash around me, or even trucks and buses sharing the same road/lane. I was, at one point, but not anymore. I am a confident and skilled driver, but I am scared about somebody randomly opening my car door.
I figured some food allergies and also the fact that panic is not my first reaction in a stressful situation, I am really graceful under pressure. But a closed one saying one negative word would put my heart on a race.
I basically am discovering how I function in life and even how exactly I like my silly lemon soda.
It's an amusing process. And it's ever so ongoing. I'm seeing it, observing it and acknowledging things as a third person even, at times. It needs watering with good feelings–regularly, it needs building a strong support system–people to fall back on, it needs forgiveness and a heart as light as a box of tissues, and as warm as gooey brownies. It requires you to be gentle with yourself.
I am kinda on the other side of the grass–rather of this garden I've planted, you know. I feel relaxed. I am in sync with myself and I am moving at my own pace. I am not bothered about turning twenty-eight and I won't shy away from talking about it now. I, in fact, feel good to be twenty-eight. Investing in myself has made me confident and crazy. And this awareness of self has brought me more life and less rush.
In retrospect, I see how well I've evolved. It makes me feel good, and proud, and happy. It makes me feel close to myself. I trust myself with my life more now, I don't freak out much–even if I do, I can calm myself down easily. I deal with people better because I'm at peace with myself.
I never thought I'd think all this or like this in my early twenties. At that time, a single thought of late-twenties used to freak me out. Haha. But here I am and trust me, it's all chill.
It may sound alien or fancy or aspirational or the feelings might just sound basic. But these just sound mine to me. I have me. And I think that is the most beautiful thing ever.
