A Little Victory: Notes Before Twenty-Six
Tomorrow, I will turn twenty-six.
I’ve always thought, or perhaps would like to think, that I have never been afraid of getting older. Though my birthdays have always been lonely (I cry every year, without fail), it’s never been because of my newfound age itself. I love birthdays actually, the marking of the passage of time. They just always seem to disappoint me. Perhaps my expectations are always too high (I am still waiting for someone to throw me a surprise party, if we’re being honest – I never expect one but I would love to have one someday).
Returning to age: I try not to say that I feel old, because though I occasionally do (everyone does, no matter what age, I think), I know it isn’t true. Twenty-six isn’t old. It’s barely beginning, actually. But for the first time I find myself afraid. For the first time, I feel like the passing of time is something I can see flying far too quickly, whipping my hair back as it goes. And sometimes, it’s hard not to feel disappointed, as you mark a new year, especially the first year you begin to feel time passing, about all the things you thought you’d have done by now. I can see all those hopes and expectations and potential piled up around me. I feel up to my ears in it, up to my eyes, making it hard to see anything else.
I should be in New York by now.
I should have an agent by now.
I should have a book forthcoming, or at least in final edits, by now.
I should have savings by now.
I should be better with money by now.
I should have stopped making this same mistake by now.
I should have found community by now.
I should be a better person by now.
This kind of thinking is useless, of course. First of all, because as I said, I am still very young. I am fully aware that I am still very young. I don’t need any of my much beloved friends who have many years on me to remind me. I know, don’t worry. :) Second of all, there is no metric that I am supposed to be measuring myself against. There’s no checklist everybody gets at birth that says, “by this age, if you don’t have these things squared away, it’s probably indicative of failure.” There’s no checklist that every writer gets that says, “if you really want to be successful, have these things accomplished by these dates, by this age.” I know this intuitively, even if it’s hard to understand it in my day to day.
I think what makes things difficult, what causes me to panic, is that none of my accomplishments feel particularly measurable or concrete. I can’t point to a list, to a wall of awards or publications and say, “See? Here’s what I’ve been doing for the last several years. You can see it all laid out so neatly. Impressive, right?” The accomplishments I’ve made feel more abstract, more interior. It makes them hard to quantify, but it doesn’t make them less valuable. It doesn’t make me less proud of them.
Again, readers, you may be asking, “Please tell me what this has to do with the home, with homemaking?” Well, both nothing and everything I guess. In speaking about abstract, interior accomplishments, I think what I am most proud of achieving in the past several years is my own self-sufficiency. I live alone. I pay my own bills (sometimes I’m late, but hey, I pay them). I cook my own meals. I keep my house clean. I lift the heavy things that need to be lifted. I still have to ask my dad to help me hang things on the wall, but we can’t do everything alone, can we? I look around at the house I have, Barry asleep on the couch, and I feel safe and proud. That’s not nothing. That’s much more than nothing.
There are things that I wish that I had done by now. There are often places I wish to be that aren’t Jackson, MS. There are many, many things I could be working harder at, spending more time on. There are ways that I feel like I could be better, people I could be, should be, better to. But I have spent these last several years learning how to take care of myself, and learning how to do it alone. I have been learning how to be alone, even when I was searching for some way to avoid that possibility. And that is what I want to remind myself of as the hour of my twenty-sixth birthday approaches. I have carved out a space for myself, both emotionally and physically, that I can finally invite others into. That others can also feel at home in.
It’s a little victory, being proud of taking care of yourself and the little bit of peace you’ve managed to scrape together. But it is a victory all the same. And I think it is a perfect way to welcome twenty-six, to celebrate that little victory. That little bit of peace.