Thursday, July 26, 2012

Letter to my 25 Year-old self

Amoge,

Are we there yet? Who knows what I’m talking about? The inner restlessness that comes with turning 25, looking every bit like a woman, feeling like a girl, looking back, looking ahead and questioning this ‘balance’ thing.

Finding deeper respect for real success and real, strong passionate and powerful women that carry a certain aura and aroma of real success. Looking up to people and getting impatient with the girl within, with your new found identity, searching for validation and inspiration, Jane Fonda, Oprah Winfrey, Ibukun Awosika, Olajumoke Adenowo, and attending pro-female gatherings and owning women's issues.

Sliding down the 90 ft tray ride at Six Flags' White Water. New found confidence and daredevil-ism. Having my first and last beer with that cute lipped boy I have a massive crush on but my head won’t listen to my heart on this one.

My first real job is far from my ideal job. It’s the toughest of battles for me - battling with giving up control and just seeing where life wants to take me. Grappling with the unfamiliar and running for sanctuary in the familiar. Learning to truly appreciate the moment and not keep yearning for the next big thing. Stop worrying already. It’s about time you took a little of what you offer others to yourself.


Praying today - not at my best spirituality, just hoping, looking for something. The girl who set big goals and accomplished them, but 25 came with a hurdle so high. And i’m learning to deal with losing. Lose the attitude already.


My convenient male friends are on the verge getting engaged.


Discovering Voltaire.


Thinking of wedding dresses and discarding the thought before I could even catch a glimpse of the shoes.  Fed up of living under my parents' roof. Being hit on by teenage boys and married men, dealing with how the other guys in between are just not that into you and then you not being into the ones that just might be into you. Series of job interviews and no serious relationship, and wondering if I’m going to end up a cougar with this zero bullshit tolerance mindset.



You’ve done a commendable job in building loyalty to old friends and experimenting with your hair cuts and dyes.  The best gift you can ever give yourself is permission to change – to change your mind views, opinions and goals. Learn now to play, to live, to learn and finally you need to learn to love and to hurt, and to cry. Explore those occasional impulses and your genuine interest in making new friends of all ages and countries ranging from 12 year old Ronnie to 61 year old Sarah “Queen Mum” Mackenzie.


Keep your love for writing and books and music and coffee alive.  You will write and people will appreciate what you churn out.

The next time a guy tells you he likes you, you don’t have to start thinking up short episodes for a How I met Your Father sitcom. Maintain your no stanky breath principle but you have my permission to flirt.


Travel more for work and for pleasure, discover cities and other loves and discover yourself every time. How dare you speed through Paris? Visit the city of Crepes and Lights again, and this time, take your time.


Celebrate the glory that is your breasts before pregnancy, and work that body. Sort the Brazilian/bikini waxes every now and then, and you're good to go. Maximise all the idle time that comes with the shift job. Dolce far niente, Wine red, Wine white, provocative dance moves and running from the cops with white potheaded friends. Of course you know what I mean ;)


In the words of Baz Luhrmann, enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. The job sucks but you will find your planet. Quit worrying about owning a car, we all get what we need. 


Build a 30-things-to-do-before-I-turn-30 list and enjoy the journey to your next milestone.


Amoge.

2 comments:

TheRustGeek said...

... and perhaps in having lost, one finds there are lessons for re-jigging the future...... happy birthday in arrears..

MissBalance said...

Many thanks, RustGeek :)