My 27th to be exact.
I find as the years tick by my birthdays become less of a reason to get smashed with friends, and more about reflection. What am I doing with my life? Am I anywhere I’d hoped to be by this age? When will it stop being surprising when people I know, who are my age, are getting pregnant or having babies???
There has only been one birthday so far in my twenties that I felt the age I was. It was my 25th birthday. On my 23rd birthday I had a really hard time. It just seemed that 23 was SO much older than 22. At 22 you can still just say, “Oh, I’m just a year over 21.” But at 23 you are officially an adult. I didn’t feel like an adult that year. Even though by my 23rd birthday I had bought my first home, started my first big girl job, and was engaged to Husband. It all happened so quickly within that year that I almost felt the need to slam on the brakes.
By 25 however, I had adjusted to married life and being a homeowner, and was on the way to pursuing a different position at work that seemed more fitting. 25 felt right with me.
So how do I feel about 27? I feel a little pressure to be honest.
I always had the age of 28 in mind for when I wanted to start having children. Sitting now less than a year away from that age, it seems suffocatingly close. In fact outside of admiring cute baby clothes and starting to ask my preggo and mommy friends a million questions about babies out of curiosity, I couldn’t feel farther from ready to bring on the chilrens. And Husband agrees.
And then there is the work thing. There is no way my feeble little mind could have predicted that at 27 I would be sitting in South Dakota, jobless, being a stay at home mom to the dogs, and taking millions of pictures of my food. Surprisingly, I’m not disappointed in myself though. I tried the corporate world. I tried climbing the ladder and building a career in a reputable field, but it didn’t fulfill me. When I was younger I had always envisioned myself at this age, living somewhere like New York, with a fancy fast paced job, fancy clothes, nice apartment, single (not sure how that worked with the baby deadline), and hot on the trail to making myself a powerhouse at my company.
There is no way in h.e.double hockey sticks I would trade my fuzzy slippers, morning coffee, and evening hugs from Husband as I cook a dinner I hope brings a smile to his face, for that vision of life.
It’s funny how life changes you.
At 23 I loved Diet Coke, high heels, and any synthetic chemical laced product that made my hair, skin, or nails look and smell good.
At 27, I think Diet Coke is the devil, my high heels sit on a shelf like a museum of my past life, and two days ago I bought bulk natural shampoo in a Kombucha bottle. Reduce, reuse, recycle!
My values have changed, my priorities have drastically realigned, but life? Life is good. I’m 27 and I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, except at this point I hope it involves writing and photography. I’m not ready for chilrens of my own, but I have learned how to hold an infant (and that they won’t break so easily) and I’m learning to love baby snuggles…from other people’s kids that is. God has slowly stripped away the things that really don’t seem to matter, and built me back up with the richness of family, friends, and love.
But possibly the best gift I’ve received at the age of 27, is the chance to step back and figure out exactly which direction I want to head next. I’m completely aware of just how rare that is. I’m eternally grateful for the opportunity to explore different careers, not having to decide on one until I determine it is what I want to do. I’m grateful that today I have the luxury of fixing breakfast for my husband and enjoying morning conversation before taking him to work, and then returning home to my computer to write and read and relax.
Right now, 27 is growing on me.