Terrible twos, you have just met your match.
I wish I could remember what turning two felt like. I can imagine there was probably some excitement in the air, but probably only from my mom and dad who couldn't believe that their baby girl was finally learning how to talk and walk on her own.
Today, I woke up in my very own apartment. I logged onto Facebook to read birthday wishes from far away, wishing they could celebrate with me. Tonight, I will get to enjoy the company of people who love me, and my mom and dad will make a phone call to say that they can't believe their baby girl is all grown up.
Funny how time can creep up on us like that.
The terrible two's were all just an adjustment period though. A time of newfound independence. Where I learned how to say "I can do this by myself," and always always always asking "what's that?" I learned how to make distinctions about when I was hungry, or tired, or bored.
And it's even funnier how time doesn't change much either.
Most people argue that your 20's are the best years of your life. A time where you gain from your newfound independence, and wanting to do everything on your own. Constantly trying to learn new things you find yourself always always always asking what, why and how?
Sound familiar anyone?
It should, because I feel like my terrible twos and my, soon to be, terrible twenties don't look that different.
In my 20 years of life my new found independence has gotten me into college, found my first apartment and an internship with the job of my dreams. I'm constantly learning new things: who I am, what I like and what I don't, and how I want to spend the rest of my life. I'm learning how to make distinctions of what my adult body needs to function properly, because let's be real this isn't a high school body anymore.
I'm growing just as much now as I was when I turned two.
There's something to be said statistically about turning twenty. Figuratively, I have completed one fourth of my life expectancy, seen two decades fly by, and am halfway to forty. Emotionally, I still act like I'm two sometimes. I cry when I get frustrated, tired, or when I don't get my way (and occasionally if I'm REALLY hungry.) I still smile at almost anything, and adore getting attention. Only difference is...
I'm learning most of this on my own.
It's ironic that as my record player spins around playing my old Taylor Swift albums, I realize I'm closer to being twenty-two than I am to having been fifteen.
Lookin back at fifteen, and all of the years in between, there's plenty more things that at age two I didn't know. I didn't know what falling in love would feel like, or what pursuing your passions in life meant. I hadn't discovered my love of coffee, writing, or music. I didn't know I would suck at high school basketball, and that bangs in middle school were never really in. I didn't know that out of heartbreak comes knowledge and perseverance- or that leading a happy lifestyle has everything to do with balance.
And if that's what the world has to teach me in twenty short years, I can't wait to look back and tell you all what I've learned by age sixty.
So...Here's to the terrible, tiresome, terrific and timeless twenties everyone.
To express, explain, and exclaim the lessons life continually throws at me, and my take on how to deal.