My friends complain I walk too fast. No matter how hard I try to slow down, I always end up turning my head back to respond to someone. I speed past people on the sidewalk and get annoyed when my speed isn’t met. Some people think it’s rude, while I think I have somewhere to be and no time to waste. I run on a time crunch. Always.
The walk to the Thai restaurant took about 20 minutes with Aunt Rita and Uncle Sy, whereas it could have taken 5 if it was just me. But for some reason, I didn’t mind. Time feels slower with them but in all good ways. I ask Aunt Rita if aging scares her, she shakes her head no and says “as long we’re still moving.”
I am frightened of aging. In fact, it’s my biggest fear. Because with aging comes death. And I do NOT want to die. I mean who does? But I ask myself where does this deep fear and hatred of the earth’s rotations come from?
I mean I do it all. From my baby botox obsession (I haven’t yet gone through it, but hitting 20 might push me!), to religiously applying SPF, and retinoid cream that is supposed to practically stop aging (But I’ve been using it for a whole year and all it seems to do is burn my skin and cost money).
Time is my biggest enemy. It feels like there is never enough of it. I constantly feel like I’m behind and trying my hardest to catch up. I procrastinate just about everything from homework to chores. And when the sun goes down and I run out of daylight – I feel defeated.
Every year I set out a list of wants for my new age. The goals of looking a certain way, having certain relationships, and chasing feelings of fulfillment. So when my birthday comes around, I am thrown into a whirlwind of defeat for the whole month of November constantly asking myself if I’m where previous me said I was supposed to be.
As I turn 20 years old, I feel scared to not have accomplished what I set out to do at 19. To adults, I’m just a baby, and my life has yet to start. But to me, I’m 20 going on 60, and near death (maybe a little dramatic).
But when I look back at my 19th year of life to my now 20th, I am so grateful for the growth and progress I never thought I would make. I’m my most confident, secure, and slightly less confused version of myself. So why would I listen to the younger me that set out unrealistic expectations when I was even more clueless about life?
I learned so much about myself at 19. Way more than I have ever known. What I like, what I don’t, what I value, and most importantly to not take everything so seriously. I find comfort in the fact change is inevitable. There is something about knowing nothing will ever be the same that comforts me in moments where times are dark and even in moments where times are light.
There is so much pressure on birthdays to celebrate and be celebrated. And as someone who functions off the brightness of the sun, I watched the rain pour down on my 20th birthday. 19-year-old me would see this as a sign my next year to come would be full of bad, but 20-year-old me knows that rain always comes and goes.
I went through some tough things. Yet here I am, learning and growing day-by-day. I encourage 20-year-old me to practice the day-by-day cliche when life feels overwhelming and my plate is full. Life will keep moving no matter how fast I walk or how youthful my skin looks. So, why fear what is bound to happen?
As I take my 20th trip around the sun I aim to treat myself with kindness. To not beat myself up if I fail. To embrace the good and the bad. I can’t say aging will never stop scaring me, but I can say that if I can get through what I got through thus far I can get through about anything.
What will be different about this year is my excitement to see where 20 takes me. To see what mistakes I make and what mistakes I won’t repeat. Just like wine, aging only increases its value and taste. I love wiser, older me. My whole life is ahead of me, so for this year, I will walk a little slower. Because like Aunt Rita says, as long as I’m still moving I can’t complain.