Twenty-two

I think this year might have been the first year that I have not felt sentimental about my birthday. Previously I have reflected on the year that has passed, and the year that lies ahead. I have written 'birthday resolutions' and made diary entries the night before and the night of, like ringing in the New Year except it is my personal year starting from my own first day on earth.

This year I didn't feel the need for such sentimentality. I spent the day and the weekend before it with people I love doing things that make me happy. That was all there was to it. I didn't feel the looming weight of being another year older, I just turned 22 and that was that.

Perhaps this is a sign of being a 'real adult'. Perhaps it is a sign of learning to stay in the present, learning to enjoy it as it is happening rather than dwelling on it after the event. Perhaps I will return to sentimentality on other 'big birthdays', ages which we mark with significance like 25, 30, 40 and all the decades to follow. I can't imagine those ages yet. Twenty-two is all I know.

Twenty-two. How about that.

Life is happening.

I have a heaviness in my heart and I can't quite put my finger on it. Well, actually I can, it is about the future. I am still hung up on it. I am still unsure of how to deal with such uncertainty. I crave the structure of my life that I had up until this moment.

I feel much more scared than excited. I am scared of what the future has to mean. It has to mean loss, sadness, and grief as much as it means opportunity. When my life changes, as it inevitably will, what changes with it? What do I have to lose? I feel like I am trying to keep myself suspended in the present so as not to have to deal with what comes next. The present is good, but at some point I have to move forward and I am terrified of the consequences.

The consequences are not necessarily bad. My life can fit back into itself with whatever changes occur. The people who love me won't disappear, I won't be catapulted away from them or they from me.

I am also struggling with the concept of what I actually want. The answer is I don't have a clue. I seem to have convinced myself that I need to make a decision right now about everything that will ever happen in my future. I am cushioning myself against things that might not ever happen, because I am afraid of the pain it will cause. I want all the pain in my life to be done with. I am worried that a good life involves no pain, that pain is a waste, and that if I make the wrong decision and I feel pain I will have ruined my twenties, my thirties, etc etc.

Everything I do in my life right now I feel the need to ask some authority figure, i.e. someone who is not me, if it is okay. Are the quiet moments I have and love okay? Is seeking one life over another okay? Is resting okay? Is this fear okay? Am I okay?

I fear regret, pain, grief, loss, change, 'wrong decisions'. But I cannot let this paralyse me. I must move forward. I must let life happen, because life is good and I cannot just let it pass me by.

The unbridled joy of pets.

I haven't written about my cat yet. I have a cat. We have had him for a month now and he has brought each of us unbridled joy every day.

I had forgotten that pets can do that. I haven't had a pet since I was about 16. That pet was a hamster called Hiccup who was, in fact, the sweetest hamster in the world. He also never failed to bring us unbridled joy despite being incredibly small and asleep in his cage for a lot of the day.

The pet before that was Tickles the rabbit who, to this day, I still dream about. Without any exaggeration she was the loveliest, naughtiest, friendliest little rabbit I ever met. Tickles became a member of the family because as a child I was poorly and she was a special gift to keep me company. And, without fail, brought us unbridled joy everyday and I loved her very much. At nearly 22 years of age, 10 years on from her passing, I still miss my little rabbit quite dearly.

Perhaps it is the unconditional love you have for a pet, and that you hope in some way they have for you. Perhaps it is their constant calm, their constant pursuit of play and comfort, their constant ability to be both extremely naughty and cute and annoying. Perhaps it is knowing you are never alone in the house, there is a little companion hiding somewhere. Perhaps it is friendship and trust across species. Perhaps it is the sense of responsibility and dedication involved in looking after a pet. Perhaps it is all of that which is so constantly lovely.

Alby, our kitten, is very loving and very cheeky and very clever and very cute. I did not know I needed him and I'll be the first to admit I resisted getting him and that I had a secret prejudice against cats, but here he is and how endlessly joyous it is.