Becoming 25
The Significance of Aging
When I was a kid, I dreamed of one day being 25 and filled with ambition.
I saw her alone at a desk, a studio filled with art in progress, and a sense of being grounded in who she was.
I pictured her in a busy and bustling city with a fine arts degree and a passion for preserving and curating art.
I dreamed of being fit, of having my own car, my own apartment and achieving it all on my own two feet.
Then, a week ago, I woke up 25.
Self Portrait, January 2023
Gone with the wind is my childhood and adolescence, the time to be chaotic and free has passed, and now comes responsibility.
Or at least, that is what society projects onto us.
Our social view on 25 generally revolves around 3 factors:
The body is meant to have finished fully developing, allowing more space for adult functioning.
By this age the person should idealy be finishing up studies or university and be moving onto the desired career path.
Marriage, Children and Future Building is now expected of you.
Seems realistic enough an expectation, right?
I woke up 25, and a terror gripped me by my nose hairs.
“25 years and my life is still...trying to get up that great big hill of hope...for a destination...”
My Reality
My bedroom a mess, rubbish piling up, a bank account in full overdrawn with notifications from every subscription urging me to take payment action, no food in the fridge and a pit of dread in my stomach.
I’m not in the body I envisioned for myself; its painful, its slow, and its gained a lot of weight while we were on anti-psychotics.
My reality is, I’ve been playing a game of catch up my whole life.
I missed out on so much as a kid, things that have directly impacted me as an adult like missing out on several grades of school because of familial drama.
And now, at 25, I feel panic over just how much I haven’t been able to do in my early 20s.
I loved concerts, clubs and music festivals.
I’ve been out to a night club twice since I turned 18 and I haven’t been to a single concert.
I’ve missed out on the social norm of learning to drive before age 20, and I still don’t have a licence. I had to drop out of university because of my health and I still haven’t worked a day job once.
Despite my desire to live to the fullest I have been held back by, what feels like, the intentions of the universe.
The Fountain, 2021
What Does 25 Mean to Me?
The greatest positive I can take from turning 25, relates directly to trauma.
20 years since I was 5 years old, 10 years since I was 15, 5 years since I was 20.
In each of these eras, I was suffering very specific grievances that could have been avoided.
5 years old was the beginning of seeing my family break into parts, a custody battle and divorce, feeling helpless and scared of the future.
15 was the peak of sexual and emotional abuse by a boyfriend, it was the peak of my home life dysfunction and it was the age we realised that I had a chronic illness.
A few months before my 20th I was admitted to a psych ward after a mental breakdown. By my birthday I had well and truly scared off my family, I no longer knew where my life was going or who I was anymore.
Did you know that the body actually replaces its cells every 7 odd years?
So, in some ways, the body you have now is different to the one you had 7 years prior.
There’s so much trauma in my book of life, so many devastating chapters, and getting to see the time thats passed since those moments helps to put space between myself and my trauma.
Turning 25 means leaving behind the past and observing the glory of the present, the joy of being able to look to a future at all.
I’m much wiser than I was in those times of great distress.
I’m now in a position where I dictate what I do with my time and how I allocate my energy, completly free of anyone’s judgement because I refuse to be shamed for suffering.
I may not be a fine arts curator, I had to drop out of university.
I’m not living the high rush lifestyle I thought I would be living, and I may be in debt and avoiding a pile of dirty dishes.
But I am living.
You may not see it on my surface, but I am more alive than I have ever been.
View of Brisbane City
I live in a busy and bustling city.
In a wonderful little apartment with my beautiful cats.
I saw her alone at a desk, a studio filled with art in progress, and a sense of being grounded in who she was.
And now, I’m ready for what’s next.
