Monday, July 28, 2008

twenty-frikkin-seven

I was telling a friend of mine how incredibly depressed I was to be turning 27 this Thursday. What I didn’t realise was that I was also talking to him five years ago, a couple of days before I turned 23—and I was ‘incredibly depressed’ then too.

Don’t get me wrong, I love birthdays. And I love my birthday even more. I want gifts, I want hugs and I want all the people who love me to be around me and celebrate the day I was born.

So that got me thinking: Is it ageing that I am depressed about? Is it the depression that comes before being insanely happy as the centre of attention at my own party? Is it depression for the sake of depression—maybe just another reason to feel inconsolably low, and wallow in my own little private pool of self pity?
Honestly, I have no idea (I said it got me thinking, I never said I came to any concrete conclusion).

This year’s pre-birthday depression phase has been more acute. I think it’s the combination of slowly crossing the youthful hill of the twenties and heading towards the weary mountain of the thirty’s (ok I realise this hill metaphor is no fun at all for you, but I’m trying to make my life a little more interesting to read about, so sue me.)

When I was nine, I’m sure I didn’t think of my life as it is when I reached this ripe old age. My nine year old self probably imagined me with a car, maybe an apartment. I probably believed I’d be someone’s boss, doing what I loved and being fabulous everyday. I probably dreamed I’d be all professional—wearing heels, business suits and doing my hair. Heck, I probably thought I’d even have a wedding by now.

The big 2-7 is upon us and in two years—BAM—I will be thirty. Needless to say, I haven’t achieved any of the above, not even close.
I’m a twenty-seven year old, who travels by public transport, lives with her parents, has an odious senior, lives in jeans and t-shirts, hasn’t seen the inside of a parlous in months and yup, no sign of a wedding happening any time soon.

Shame on me.

And apologies to my nine-year-old self.

2 comments:

Roy said...

Not to worry, its better this way!

Spazsim Chasm said...

is it really. i need some convincing. im having pre-birthday issues :s