I turned twenty-four a few days ago. On that day, I discovered an old Tweet that made me contemplate my life journey (didn’t have too many birthday plans, clearly).
When I was eighteen years old, I had just started my first job as a receptionist at a gym. I had decided to go to a community college instead of a four-year university, and was incredibly self conscious about that decision. I was glad to be out of high school, but felt so trapped in my hometown. I felt untalented and unfulfilled.
A few weeks after my eighteenth birthday, I picked up my phone and tweeted out the following.
I can’t go back in time and ask my younger self who or what she was envisioning with this Tweet, but if I had to guess, it would be someone like this:
An eighteen year old’s version of what having one’s shit together looks like: a sleek ponytail that I couldn’t (and still can’t) master due to my weird hairline, button-up top, looks good in glasses, a look of strong focus.
Other things I wanted at the age of eighteen: a job in a big city, works off of a smart phone, has a cool office, and buys her own clothes. Eighteen year old AK had yet to face the realities that come along with true adulthood, like paying rent, car maintenance, and going to the weddings of people not much older than you are.
I’m not really sure what the point of this post was, except to say that where I am at twenty-four is fairly aligned with where I thought I would be when I was eighteen. And despite this, I still don’t quite feel like I have my shit together in any sense of the word. This has been said millions of times, more articulately than I’m saying now, but shit together-ness is really a moving target.