In a month’s time I will turn twenty seven. This feels like a significant milestone for me, something that goes back to when I was little. We all have a milestone age, and this is mine. By the age of twenty seven I was to get married, own my own home – albeit with a mortgage, have a Labrador, and a baby. My life was to be “sorted”, the boxes ticked by twenty seven. Why? Because my parents were living this dream by then. My mum gave birth to me four days before her twenty seventh birthday.
It’s silly, I know it is. Yet it still plays on my mind. I’m nowhere near that stage in my life. Up until recently I haven’t worried all too much. It’s kind of been like “I’ve got time, I’m not 27 yet…” This thought planted deep within. As a little girl I’d say I would have a husband and children by 27. As I grew older, when asked what I wanted to be, I’d smile and say “A mum.” The question “When do you want to be a mum?” followed and I’d say by the time I’m 27.
Twenty seven was the age, the milestone. It was when I’d turn into a real grown up – because you know, right now I’m not a real one. Although I pay my rent on time every month, stick to a healthy diet and work as a teacher. I do the boring adulting life admin jobs, go to bed at a reasonable time and leave the house as and when I should for work. I’m not a real grown up, I’m conditioned to believe that real grownupness comes with parenthood. Which, of course, it doesn’t.
Now that I’m on the doorstep of The Age which is looming behind the metaphorical door, I don’t want to be a mum right now. I don’t want to get married right now and I’m bloody happy and proud of where I’m at. Motherhood doesn’t appeal to me right now not because I’m not ready, I’ve heard you never feel ready, and yet I do. I know I could do it, and I’d put my heart and soul into bringing up my children, that’s not the reason. The reason is that I have a few more things I’d like to do before I become a mum. Travel, create some kind of savings safety net and work on more of my own projects to name but a few.
My views are changing, I believed I’d be happy once I reached married family life bliss. I guess I found happiness before I got there. I’m content, and I’ve heard that comes with being in your late twenties. I’ve come to accept, respect and love the body I’m in. I see my flaws, the quirks of my personality, and the person that I am and know I’m doing okay. I’m always learning, always trying my hardest to adult and I suppose, I’ve grown into the person I always was. Much like when your mum says you’ll grow into your school uniform within no time when you were a kid, and you did.
During the past year I’ve started to question my beliefs along with my actions and thoughts. I’m aware that what I once took for granted as my own mind aren’t 100% my own thoughts. It’s what I have been subconsciously taught to believe by society, my family, my friends and peers. It takes all sorts to make a world, and no two people are the same.
As we mature we realise we don’t necessarily think the same as those around us. We don’t always need another’s opinion to guide us. The goals we set ourselves years ago don’t have to be our goals now.
We grow up, we change, we evolve, we learn.
We make mistakes, we learn again, we analyse ourselves and those around us.
We realise that we have our own minds, we are our own people and we can make decisions.
We have our lives to live, our dreams to work for and our actions pay the consequences. We learn to be us.
It takes time, it’s a quiet self assurance which could be mistaken for arrogance. Look close and you’ll see we are growing into the person we’ve always been.