Turning Twenty-Five

"What’s My Age Again?" - Blink 182

My twenty-fifth Birthday was a huge deal for me.

When I was growing up, my Mother had always said that I would never make it twenty-one, so to be turning twenty-five felt like a pretty big achievement. A large portion of people with histories like mine, or with clinical depression, never make it as far as I have, so in some respects I was really proud. Society might see me as a bit of a nobody, but to have been "straight" for such a long time, and to have held down a job for almost six years, gives me more dignity than any degree I might have gained by attending university, should I have had the "normal" life that I planned whilst growing up. I’m proud of the accomplishments that I’ve made, even though they may appear to others as no real achievement at all.

But I still hate my Birthday. I have done ever since I’d grown up. Society expects certain things from me, like I should be progressing in my job, or I should be married, or have children, or live on my own. For the majority of the year, I’d say to these people, "I don’t want to be a manager; I don’t want the responsibility. I’m single out of choice (mostly). I’m not a massive fan of kids. And why live on my own, when living at home provides me with an extremely comfortable life-style that I may not otherwise be able to afford". But then, my Birthday rolls around, and I get another year older. Pessimists may say, one year closer to death. And I begin to feel like life has passed me by. Like I should be making something more of my life.

So how does one cope with this confusion of feelings, I hear you ask! Well, I book time off from work, and crawl under a rock to hide out until the terrible event has passed, at which point I usually return to my normal perky self. In the past, many of my well-meaning friends have tried to tempt me into celebrating, but hey, it’s not like I can go out and get drunk! So I completely ignore the day as much as humanly possible.

But this year was a little different. Emma was in charge! She was out of the country on my actual Birthday, so although I got some great Birthday messages all the way from the USA, she did miss my heated emotions, and eventual crying session, that I experienced on the day. But when she came back, I got spoilt rotten. 2011 saw us celebrating our first Birthdays since becoming true pals, together. You may have heard me mention my My Chemical Romance Danger Days necklace (a spider design with MCR written across it), and this has got to be my most worn accessory. I’d sleep in it, if I didn’t risk probable strangulation. It combines two of my most favourite things; My Chemical Romance and my best friend Emzy! I got a few other gifts from her too. We went to the cinema, once her jet-lag had worn off, which we always enjoy. And we had a shopping trip: Emzy has the most amazing fashion sense, and is really awesome at picking clothes for me. She made a real fuss of me, and I had a really memorable time, thanks to her. It made my Birthday feel like it was actually something to celebrate.

So maybe, when that fateful day rolls around next year, instead of running for cover, and hiding from the whole world, I’ll grab my glad-rags, slap a smile on my face, and say "Emzy, let’s go celebrate". Thanks Emzy. Love you lots, like jelly-tots.