Last week I had a chat with my bf which went like this.
Me : I’m 26 at the end of this month which means I’m almost 30. Yuck.
Bf: hahahaaha, ah please. You’re a spring chicken
Me : 30 Ci, 30.
Bf: Yes and 10 years ago you were 16 and in 10 years time you will be 36.
Me : Ya but I don’t want saggy boobs. And getting older just means the time between now and peeing in my pants a little every time I laugh is a little bit shorter. Will you love me when I have to wear adult diapers?
Bf: Stop itttttt. You are so young. And black don’t crack. And you can buy new boobs if you really want.
It was time for a pep talk. So I gave myself one that went a bit like this.
Get over it. Really, get over it. You’re going to be 26 not 2000. So stop being ridiculous.
Spend more time looking at the world, exploring it and less time in front of the mirror.
Remember last week when you found that 1 hair that you swear was super super light blond? Er, no it wasn’t. It was GREY. And its fine. And you will live.
There is absolutely nothing you can do about it. NOTHING. Jan 31st will just keep coming round to make you older. Pretty much until you die.
So stop being a big baby about being an old lady.
And with that I stopped the big pity party and decided to reflect on this last year.
Of all of my teachers, the age 25 I’m pretty sure will go down as the greatest. Oh 25 you were hard on me. But you were good to me. How you made my head spin, my steps quicken and re-orchestrated the beat of my heart because the old slow heavy thud could never match up to the quickened pace of this year as day by day so many of my dreams came true.
25 the year of goodbyes.
Breaking off of all the little pieces of me that no longer could serve the world. 25 was also the year of saying goodbye to myself, to the 24 year old self. It was the year of chipping and knocking away at the exterior while refocusing on the things of the inner. trust. forgiveness. passion.
25 the year of jumping.
This was the year I realized that you cannot sit around with a cup of tea and wait for life to just work itself out. For things to happen. You have to go for the things you threatened to chase. You have to point yourself in a new direction. 25 was about taking dreams and exporting them into plans, goals and to do lists.
25 was the year of realizing I wanted to be Hazel Grace.
The kind of girl who lets a few in long enough to let them build a forever out of a bundle of counted days. The friend who doesn’t ever throw in the towel. The friend you can call and say “Hey can we sit on your bed and drink wine and talk for a bit, i think I need that kind of thing tonight.”
25 was a year of gathering cheerleaders.
Digging out all the people who are relentless for my heart and keeping them close. Victories will arrive with failures in their bags. And many will tell you that work and money and pretty things trump flesh and bones. But they’re wrong. Your cheerleaders. They’re the ones who will keep you marching. Thank them. Keep them close. They’ll stuff you full of life.
26. I’m ready.
A year of the simple things — you and someone else having a party the rest of the world didn’t need to know about. A year of exploring and adventuring. A year of living without a net, cutting the harness. 26 will be lovely. It will be splendid, wrinkles and all.
Jenna Jay x