This post was supposed to go up on my birthday last week, but the bigger internet Gods wasn’t with me, so now that I’m back in NYC here you are!
Happy quarter life to me!
As we speak I’m in Spain surrounded by my wonderful family (and pretty vineyards). Edward woke me up with kisses and a little song (wish I had filmed it, it was so cute), and my family had made a big breakfast with everything I could’ve wanted. And good coffee. My day is already complete. I think today’s plan is a lot of pool time, too many ice-creams, and tonight a delicious dinner with good drinks in an outfit that screams “I got this.”
I few weeks ago I wrote the below:
“I woke up the other morning from a terrible nightmare where I had ended up flushing my own baby down the toilet. Sweaty and rather disoriented a scary thought came to my mind. This year, will be the end of half my twenties. I will turn 25 in July. Scary thought. I suddenly felt like I don?t have that much time left to figure out my life. When should I have my first baby? Am I obviously not ready for babies, when I dream about flushing him/her out the toilet? Do I make as much money as I should? Should I really be living in a much more luxurious apartment when I turn 25? Will the last half of my twenties be filled with bad decisions, frustrations about life, and full of dreams yet to come alive? Will I still not be able to run a 5k or resist sugar? You see, my thoughts went on a spin with 100mph.
After work that day I found myself on the subway starring at the reflection in the window. I spent a good amount of the ride examining my appearance. No smile, very clear bags under my eyes, my stomach was bloated again for whatever “my digestion can’t tolerate anything”-reason, but my hair was having a good day (actually)… Conclusion for the day: I felt like shit. With good hair.”
The thing is, that moving to New York City has been the hardest couple of years of my life. I can’t count on two hands the amount of breakdowns I’ve had, the mornings where I just wanted to stay in bed, the “insecure me” work situations, all the times I didn’t speak up for myself when people acted like dickheads. It’s been hard. And it’s been wonderful. But turning 25 made me look at myself and ask a lot of questions that I couldn’t even answer. Because maybe I’m not exactly where I’m supposed to be, but then again, who decides what’s right or wrong? Who decides where I’m supposed to be in my life as a 25 y/o? No one. And I’m certain that I’ll get there.
So I’m going to embrace the next quarter of my life. Just day by day. Week by week.. Working hard, but remembering myself in the process. Happy birthday to me. Stop over-thinking, stop the breakdowns. The 20’s are for fighting for your dream career. To go get ’em. To my future self: You got this!