It’s my birthday in a month and fuck me fuck me, where has time goneeeeeeeee? I can remember my 13th birthday ever so vividly, I had survived the end of the world in the year 2000, (I was convinced we were all going to perish) and was stepping into 2001 a teenager! Every milestone thereafter has been sometimes exciting, sometimes not, certainly interesting and many times very testing. At 25 I was convinced my life was going nowhere really, I got really sick for a while and everything just felt like shit to me. I was in a job that gave me massive anxiety and nothing made sense. Fast forward to today, 28 and loving life, here’s what I’ve discovered and enjoyed about getting older.

You can make plans with a friend, both fall asleep and then pretend to make it up to each other, knowing full well neither of you could be arsed when you made the plans in the first place! Learning to not give a shit about a plethora of things is something I’ve noticed has suddenly taken centre stage. I no longer suffer from FOMO (fear of missing out) and you can take snap chats of you twerking to RihRih all night long and I’ll still appreciate the comfort of my bed way more.

You don’t need a massive circle of friends- and to be honest who has that kind of energy to accommodate a whole heap of personalities anyway. Whilst I still enjoy being sociable and making friends I’m way more appreciative of my nearest and dearest who inject my life with love. A solid support system isn’t always the easiest to find but once you have the formula for friendship success in your circle -hold tight. The friends who love you the most want to see you win, give a shit about your well-being and have your back even on your worst days.

Your parents won’t be here forever. I grew up with a lot of resentment for my parents at different stages in life, but truth be told getting older has made me accept how human we all are. Appreciating that my parents are human too is something which I keep having to remind myself of. Nobody is perfect, we all don’t know what we are doing. I can sit and drink tea with the parentals and argue over the proper pronunciation of ‘dementia’ and it’s a wonderful way to spend a Wednesday afternoon because I simply want to enjoy them. One day they’re here the next they are not.

Relationships don’t have to be stressful. I’m not here to win an award for being a ‘ride or die’. If the relationship doesn’t come with extra affection, respect, love and a heaped side order of solid communication- babe I don’t want it. Getting older means saying no to bad sex, time wasters, people who don’t text back and situations where you feel like you’re constantly ‘slaving hard for’. I don’t have to audition for your fucking affection and I’m not faking it either boo.

So there we have it, a little sass on a Wednesday morning because getting older means getting to know yourself that little bit more and trying to navigate this weird ass world a little better. I still don’t know what I’m doing, still learning to love myself so radically its infectious.



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