On December 16, 2019, I turned twenty four years old. I awoke to the soft pattering of raindrops on my window sill. As I prepared for work, the gravity of my situation weighed on me. I was no longer a spring chicken. I was no longer in my early twenties. I was creeping towards my mid-twenties and from there a slippery slope into REAL adulthood awaited me.
Fast forward to today. Less than 60 days until my momentous 25th birthday. The weight that I felt when I turned 24 has amplified tenfold. There is an alarming sense of urgency. I feel as though my time is limited. I have always had a deep awareness of mortality and the short time that we have on this Earth.
As I approach a quarter of a century, I have become even more aware of the winding clock of life. What I will accomplish before I take my last breath? What do I want for my life? How will I measure my success in life? How will I know if I am on the right track or going at the right pace? Do I look to my peers to measure where I’m supposed to be?
Those questions plague my mind. It’s hard to drown them out as I am hurled towards 25. Every person that I share these thoughts with tell me that I’m over-thinking, that I’m being ridiculous, that I’m on the right path, that I have nothing to worry about. They tell me that I should be happy to be in my position at 24. I’m well educated, employed, bills are paid. While all of these things are true…I’m unfulfilled.
As I approach 25, I’m unsure of what will fulfill me. That’s the scariest feeling of all.
Signed,
A Black Girl in Crisis
“Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away.” — Maya Angelou
Black Girl Finding Joy 