I don't really know what to write to be honest. I've never been very good at beginnings. The reason it always takes me so long to start a paper is because I get stuck on the introduction. I have to have the right words that will flow into the right feeling in order for me to continue on to the next thing. I suppose I'm actually a fairly methodical person in that case. I don't like to have an unfinished task niggling at the back of my mind and so I tend to not start on things I know I won't feel like finishing. Hence why my apartment is currently a mess. There mum, I just stumbled upon a legitimate, pseudo-psychological reason why my bedroom was always a mess when I was growing up.
Right now, in my life, I'm experiencing both the anxiety of something new and that uncomfortable unfinished feeling all at the same time.
For one thing, last week I turned 25. When I was 16, 25 felt like a huge number. It's so big and round (even though it is totally an odd number) and it feels so important. My friends and family either roll their eyes and laugh when I say I'm starting to feel old or inform me that I don't know how young I really am. Rightly so I suppose. I am young. I have so much of my life ahead of me. And yet, I have all of my life behind me. The line of my past is solid and black stretches much further than the shadowy bend in the road that lies ahead. It's like when you press your pencil so hard against a piece of paper that the lead breaks off and the pencil skids across the page for a little bit longer, leaving a faint impression that kind of fades off into nothing. The beginning of your line exists solidly in the middle of your page. It's there, it happened and you have the indentation to prove it. The future, however is just a whispering suggestion, a graphite impression that is more absent than not. It's a little exciting that I don't know what is coming but it's definitely nerve-wracking as well. I guess the crux of this anxiety is that I'm really not a kid anymore. I'm married, I have cats, an apartment. I have tchotchkes, for crying out loud! A whole life. And while all of this was equally true when I was 24 (ie: 2 weeks ago), now that I'm 25 it feels more solid.
This is the point in life when traditional norms say I've moved past the student phase (although that isn't entirely true) and I'm ready to have a "real" job, start making a family and a life of my own. It's time for me to step up and be a contributing member of society. I know empirically that my life will happen at my own pace. That there is actually no ticking clock that says when I have to start doing certain things like having wine and cheese parties with the pta. I can travel the world, I can change my mind, I can go back and start all over again whenever I want to. I tell myself this and yet that clock still ticks away in my brain.
My sister, who I am so close to that she is practically my right arm, starts university next week and I am so excited for her. I have had the best time in university. I have loved every second, whether it be the classes, the exams (Yes, even the exams), the friends I've made or the bonds I've shared with people who just happened to be interested in the same post-colonial lit class as me. She's got all that ahead of her and I know she is going to be spectacular. While being incredibly excited for her though, I'm a little sad for me. For the first time in around 2 decades, September is not bringing the excitement of new books, pretty pens or a new backpack (or is it just me and Emilie who get excited about those things?). I'm not even finished school yet, (Hence the niggling, unfinished feeling). I'm just taking off a semester before I finish up and yet it feels like I'm moving on. Moving on to what I have no idea.
All of a sudden, because of a promotion at work, I sort of have one of those "real jobs". At least I'm in charge of people and a building and have to do things like keep an eye on overhead costs and labour. It sort of feels like 25 is ushering me into a new portion of my life. it's like the beginning of my life ended and I didn't even realize it until I was solidly in the beginning of the middle. That's where I am, I think. The beginning of the middle. While splitting your life into beginning, middle and end seems horribly callous and really not very accurate, I can't describe it any better.
The beginning of the middle is terrifying but it's the kind of terrifying you feel before conquering a fear. The kind of shaky nervousness that comes with performing on a stage in front of a huge group of people or letting other people hear or read or understand something that is intensely close to your heart. It's a good thing and it should be embraced. I mean to embrace it. So I propose a toast to the girl I was and to the girl I will be and to the fact that both of those girls are part of who I am now, just with some different experiences thrown in.
Here's to the beginning of the middle.
