On Growing Old

I wondered if I was supposed to feel old, when I woke up last Wednesday. It was my 20+++ birthday (a lady does not divulge her real age).

I certainly did not.

I got concerned that if I didn't feel old, I didn't feel my age. Was I immature? Was I still such a baby?

But then, I asked myself -- What should people my age supposed to feel anyway?

So, I tried to make a connection between my feelings and the years I have lived and the experiences I have gone through.

I have been in this world for more than a score now, but I felt like I was just 20, without pluses. I had rough times, but my heart is not coarse and calloused. Of course, there are days when I feel I am a hundred years old. But not that morning. On my 20+++ birthday, I felt I didn't change much since I was 18.

So, I tried to measure my emotions and sense of being by examining it against society's expectations from a 20+++ year old lady.

By the time she was my age, my mother already had 3 children. The world has changed a bit since then. But I gather that our age, most of my peers today are already married. With a kid or two. Their concerns may be disciplining their children and taking care of their children's needs (studies, food, clothes, shelter, medicine, etc), managing the household, paying the mortgage and bills. In rural communities, an unmarried woman my age would be called an ‘old maid’.

I am single (and happy). I own my time. I spend free time reading, writing, staring into space, and watching films. I have a boyfriend who I plan to marry (I hope he plans to marry me too. haha) I live alone in a small but nice studio apartment. I cook for myself, and I clean up my own mess. I have rent and bills to pay.

Now, am I much different from my married peers?

I say not much. I take care of myself. I take care of my family and friends. The fact that I don't have kids yet does not make me feel inadequate (I now know how to properly carry a little baby, thanks to Baby Jury). I am an independent woman who can handle responsibilities.

So, I tried to analyze my unsettled feelings by thinking of what I expected when I was younger, that I should have achieved when I reached this age.

By now, I think I should have graduated from college, and have a Masters degree or a Doctorate degree, have stable career, be financially independent, go to high places and make a difference in the world. It would seem that being up and about, getting a direction and even getting stressed is part of being mature.

Now, I thought that must be it. I am still in the middle of my law degree (with Dad and Mom paying for my studies). I feel unsure of what I ultimately want to do with my life.

But then, I do have a college degree. And I have job. I am a productive citizen. I care about our country. I care about our world. I get frustrated. I get really really tired. I do my best even if my best still falls short from standards other people set.

And then I felt ironic. Here I was, wondering why I don't feel old, when a lot of people want to feel young.

I found my problem then. I realized that since I was a child, I wanted to feel "mature". I did not want to be babied (which I was). In fact when I was fourteen, I came here to Manila from Bohol for a convention. I sneaked out to have a sight-seeing adventure with my cousin Dasa and wrote a note to our adult companions that they should not worry where we are because we were already "mature". Of course, we got lost in Manila and I got ribbed for being "mature" for a while.

I realized that by trying to feel old, I have not really accepted who I am. That I am a young person. I look young and I feel young. I am a kid-at-heart. I love to play games. I love hugs, stories, chocolates, vanilla milkshakes, and ice cream. I love to laugh, sing, and skip. I grin and wrinkle my nose without a slightest trace of “mature” sophistication. I engage in "baby talk" with people who think I am cute that way. I have a lot of dreams that excite me, and I make plans for the future which scares me. I wonder, and I ask a lot of questions. I get confused, and I make mistakes.

Then, I read Eleven by Sandra Cisneros. It said there that "What they don't understand about birthdays and what they never tell you is that when you're eleven, you're also ten, and nine, and eight, and seven, and six, and five, and four, and three, and two, and one. And when you wake up on your eleventh birthday, you expect to feel eleven, but you don't. You open your eyes and everything's just like yesterday, only it's today..."

I realize she hit the mark. I am not just 20+++. I was also 20++, 20+, 20, 19, 18... :-)

That realization helped me celebrate the me that was, the me yet to come, the me now, and the me that has always been.

I realize that by not acknowledging my youthfulness, I will just wake up one day, and feel old without ever feeling good about being young.

I realize that being child-like is not being childish. Being young does not equate to being immature.

And now, I celebrate that I grew up, but I didn't grow old.

Happy 20+++ Birthday to me. :-)