Shaking up safe, silent, steady 23
Mid-early twenties. There is nothing obviously special about turning 23-- except, maybe, for the fact that it is safe. I guess I can't call myself a newbie in the adulting world anymore. I should already know some basic adulting tricks and be able to give useful tips to a fresh graduate given that I started full-time work 3 years ago. But at this age, I can also still carry out my day-to-day tasks without much worry that my youth is running out. Quarterlife and midlife crises are still a good distance away. Wonderful. May the seeming safety of 23 cushion me against the bumps I'd get from outgrowing the shell of who I was. Looking back, I think I have put too much strain on my 22-year-old self. I juggled too many things, and from the craziness of all my commitments, there were times when I was beyond confused, asking if it was really me juggling things or if it were things juggling me. I go for both. I say 22-year-old Ash was too ambitious, but wow, I'm actually proud of her. It is hard to dream if you're the eldest child from generations of low-wage laborers in the province. The younger me had a lot of dreams, and a lot of nerves to chase those dreams besides. Although I pretty much would still be frustrated that we didn't have enough for me to attend swimming or music classes, I'm learning to cope. I'm fine. I look back on my tender years of not having much choice-- you only acquire what you can afford-- and now use the memories to fuel my understanding of and fight against the structures that constrain people's potentials. I have done things I never thought I'd do at 22. Admittedly not my best year, but it taught me that fulfillment is not just a destination-- it is also a process. With equations. With a no-bullshit attitude that leaves room only for reasoned negotiation. This means more exercise, more time for myself, more sleep, less alcohol, less time talking about other people, less time chasing after toxic people. At 22, I have asked myself, over and over again, if I really wanted the things that I thought I wanted, and throughout the year I've given myself inconsistent answers. I'll probably still ask myself the same question at 23, but I hope I now get a constant answer, for my own sake, for the sake of my family who also relies on me, and for the sake of the country that I still wholeheartedly want to serve despite its current state. This 2019, I admittedly found myself having less drive for the things I used to enjoy doing. I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing. Maybe it shows that I'm changing (and aging). At 23, my wish is simple: to make the most out of the safety of my age. Take more risks. Speak up more. Climb and be prepared to fall. So age 23, safe, silent, steady 23, I am ready to shake you up.
