I’ve never truly been fond of birthdays, especially my own. I nearly forgot that when January soon rolled around, I’d be 20. The thought of gathering around to celebrate a year of life, whether it be for friends or family, always seemed more tolerable than doing the same for me. Instead, I’m left to reflect on the past decade, my experiences, my successes, and everything else in between. And, now that I’ll be a year older, my birthday no longer feels exciting – instead, it feels intimidating. I’m leaving behind the six years I was a teenager, and instead of being sheltered from the real world and responsibilities, I’m torn with the anxieties that come with emerging adulthood.
To some, letting go of the “teen” attached to their age might create attitudes of optimism, looking towards a new decade with many milestones ahead. For me, leaving the last few years of my life in the past makes me question my readiness for adulthood. Do I have my life together? Do I know what I want to do with my life? What does it even mean to be 20? Sure, at some point, I’ll have the answers to all of these questions. But, to me, I’m still young. I’m still figuring out how to navigate life, and am still in the process of learning about myself. And that’s okay.
When I was a child, I longed for adulthood. I wanted to be taken seriously, stay out late, drive, and have a credit card that seemingly allowed me to have access to anything I could ever want. As I got older, I constantly would look forward to the next birthday, the next year, and the next milestone of my life, perhaps wishing that I could overcome my struggles. I remember looking forward to turning 16 – the year society deems the start of true teenage years, then 18 – when I was finally old enough to vote. Though my younger self might have thought that these were the years to experience the peak of life, I cowered under stress, insecurities, and superficial standards. I went through a pandemic, lost a lot of people who were close to me, and placed high expectations on myself that were far from achievable. I was still truly captivated by the nuances of adulthood, and continued to look forward to a time when I was an adult – and actually felt like one too.
This past year, I’ve grown far more than I ever knew I would. After nineteen years of being alive, I learned to grow past society’s expectations, become (mostly) comfortable with myself, and finally be proud of myself and my capabilities. Although getting older still makes me apprehensive, I have a newfound sense of appreciation for life, for growing older, and for overcoming past struggles. I’m passionate, ambitious, and strong-willed, no matter the obstacles life has thrown my way. Life is full of ups and downs, and I now realized that the hurricane has cleared and a new life is waiting for me.
Now that I’m days away from turning 20, I’ve realized that it will be okay. I’m not leaving my teenage years behind but instead using what I learned to better myself and prepare for a new decade. Society tends to construct capricious expectations for experiencing milestones, but I’m choosing to instead celebrate the journey of turning 20 instead of the number itself. I hope my younger self is proud of my accomplishments – it might not have been the ‘typical’ teenage experience, but it was MY experience. And I’m proud of it.