Just another reason to make a wish

It’s the eve of my 26th birthday and it is by far the least excited I have been yet to turn another year older. This year is a big one for me. 25 seemed like a milestone, and passing the quarter-century point is something of a feat in adulting. This is the birthday the government gives us newly turned 26-year-olds the stiff-armed pushed into adulthood. This is the year they say “hopefully you have your shit together, we know your joints are starting to hurt more than they did in your early 20’s, your hangovers only seem to be getting worse, and gray is now part of the color spectrum on your head, but even so, you can’t mooch off your parents forever, get your own fucking health insurance.”

There are only a few circumstances that newly turned 26-year-olds find themselves in. They will breathe a sigh of relief, wake up, and roll out of bed to the job that is providing them with a health plan. Or, they will reach a little further into their pockets to pay for their own insurance. Or, they will risk it and go without. Those scenarios have been sitting on my shoulder this whole past year whispering their sweet anxieties into my ears.

The last week has felt heavy. The last month felt heavy. Hell, 25 has been a heavy year for me.

Minutes before it turned 12 am, marking my birthday—yes I paid attention— I’m trying to remember some of my recent past birthdays. Some I could remember easily, some were a bit foggy as to how I spent my day. I thought that was odd, not remembering. But, I do know that each one of them I had some type of plan that included celebrations, usually which involved drinking adult beverages and inviting friends to spend the day with me. This year is by far the tamest, and I am so ok with that.

So, it’s 12:07 am, newly 26,  and I’m flossing my teeth. Just 10 minutes earlier I was looking into the dance moves in Fortnite with my little brother.

Life as of recently has been felt nothing short of a rollercoaster ride. Specifically, the kind that takes you up and down and turns you upside down to the point where if the seatbelts malfunctioned you’d definitely find yourself catapulted out of your seat. Even so, grateful is what I feel, and there has been a growth within me that I am proud of.

As daunting as 26 has been, I do feel a lightness that is unexpected and welcoming. 25 was challenging and this next year maybe even more so, but it provides some changes that I have been desperately grasping for. I’m not sure how long this lightness will last for, I’m only one hour into being 26, but I’m going to fly with it as long as the magic carpet will let me.

I don’t want to say that I’m ditching all that has been, but, really, yeah, I kinda am.

 

New sight

It hit me like a slingshot to the neck. It has been something sitting in the back of my mind along with the other maybes. Occasionalally I’ll pluck one of those ideas up like a claw machine. But, often like a claw machine does, the idea is dropped as soon as it is picked up.

The aim of this slingshot was so particular that I couldn’t help but look at it with intrigue. As I delved more into the idea, I found my interest rising as if I was on a hike and getting closer to the summit. I found this idea offered a purpose worthy of being more than just a thought.

When this happens, intuition had found its way up through your guts. You have a decision to make. You allow your guts to lead you to a place you don’t know yet, or you let the feeling subside, just as you do when overcoming a hangover. As you ignore this new vision, the idea will loom with you, making you uncomfortable and even sick. But, it will pass, and the intuition that once held you lets go. But take a drink again. Intuition has a possibility of rising up and being there. You just have to drink the right juice, play that claw machine enough, and turn your head when something hits you in the neck.

To what used to be always

How fitting.

The deplorable expectation met my gaze and kept it there as I sat thinking about what move to make next. Anything that could make this moment divert from its usual course would fill me with excitement, relief. Because the casualness of it all has started making me so discontent, so unconnected, so indifferent to the outcome that the numbness of it all is scaring me to the point of desertion.

To be somewhere else, to feel something else has become a dream I wake up from as the unfortunate morning realization of my surroundings comes to focus—the reality I have surrendered to.

To be content is less than being happy, it lies just above the buzz ones feels before the body goes into a complete numbness of senses and instincts as alcohol saturates the veins.

The typical “of course,” “saw that coming,” “shit, yup I deserve that,” stutters of the mind come to face the truth in the spotlight of a moment.

Run away from that, run from the hands reaching from the muddy ground trying to keep you there stuck in that moment. We learn to expect the pulling, the grabbing grasps from what was.  But we develop calf muscles and we jump, hell, as we leap onto higher ground.

When we reach that spot, we look down at the muddy footprint we leave as we walk forward. With each step that footprint fades to a point of clarity that is almost unrecognizable, one that we aren’t running from, but running with—you can tell by the length of the strides, they get shorter.