Tuesday, November 12, 2013



I'm not ready to turn 24 tomorrow.

I've always been a bit on edge when it comes to my birthdays. (Remember this post?) Ever since my eighteenth, I've had this weird anxiety about getting older. Maybe it was just because at the time, I was moving into the real world and real responsibilities. I was facing the prospect that things were rapidly changing around me, and I had to either adapt quick or be eaten alive. But now, I'm even worse. Last year, all I could think about was all I didn't get accomplished in my 22nd year, about how Owlfish was a newly one-year-old, and getting older. But I looked in the mirror at school today and the getting older thing really hit me. My life definitely moved a lot quicker when I became a mom and some of that wear-and-tear was starting to show. I was not as happy with myself I used to be. I'm no where near in shape anymore. My hair is not as nice as it once was. I kept thinking the small lines on my face were deeper than they had been the night before. I was manically looking for reasons to be worried. It took a friend telling me to zip it and that I was imagining things to quit worrying. 

I can honestly say getting older terrifies the hell out of me. And I keep thinking of the Triple Goddess stages. I guess when this anxiety started, I was beginning the move from the first cycle of life, the maiden, into the second cycle of the mother (Well, figuratively at the time. Certainly didn't think three years later I'd actually BE one). And each birthday, I feel like I'm getting closer and closer to the crone stage of life and I'm not ok with that. I've so much more I want to do, so much I want to see. I don't want to wake up one day when I'm thirty, forty, fifty and look back thinking "Well, it's too late now." That would just be the worst!

Becoming a mother has made me feel like I'm 23 going on 33, and I (or my wonderful friends who put up with my hot mess) have to remember I'm only in my early twenties. I'm not physically as old as my soul is and feels. It's funny because it's only really around this time that I get so worked up about this. Normally, I don't give my age much of a thought. I know it's a legitimate fear to not want to grow old...but circle of life and all that jazz. I'm trying to accept it.

Daniel is always saying "You're only as old as you allow yourself to be." He doesn't plan to be "old" until he's eighty. I probably should start adopted that train of thought. Maybe it would actually loosen the knot in my chest over my birthday if I did. That if I believe it in my heart and keep acting like I'm still young and happy, things will get better as I age. One can only hope, right? And yeah, yeah, I know. I'm "only" 23 (24). I shouldn't be freaking out like this. But I do. Eventually, I hope this too shall pass. 

Either way, I'll make a wish, blow out my candles on my birthday pie, and anxiously welcome a new year. Clean slate. I'll make the best of it even if I'm shaking the whole time.

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