It happened. I got older. Officially. I had to get a new driver's license and everything.
Last time I got a new driver's license, I was four years ago when I turned 21. I remember thinking at the time, "Next time I get a new driver's license, it'll probably be because I'm changing my name and getting married." Wrong.
I even remember thinking a year ago, "I hope I have a cool job in an undiscovered part of the country next year when I need to get my license renewed because otherwise I'll be paying for a new one in Idaho again and I really don't plan to be there for the next four to eight years."
$30 later, my driver's license thinks differently.
Actually, I'm not all that uncool with being 25. It feels like a big accomplishment to have reached this age, and I even made several lists (intending to blog them, of course) of the 25 Most Epic Moments of My Life by Age 25.
Like those six amazing weeks I spent abroad in Europe, living across from Hyde Park, going to world-class theater every night, meeting amazing people I still call friends, and otherwise living the dream.
Like eighteen months worth of Texas-sized, Texas-style mission memories that are too numerous to list, too tender to blog, and often come back to me when I least expect it.
Like holding my sister for the first time.
Like holding my brother for the first time.
Like graduating from high school and college with shiny report cards and wicked awesome test scores that don't define who I am but sure provide me with tangible evidence that I am at least good at being smart when I doubt my other qualities.
But thinking about the 25 Most Epic Moments list only made me want to make the 25 Most Epic Moments Still to Come list, which inevitably made that half-full glass start looking a lot more half empty.
Which is silly, because there are great big things on the horizon for me, including one unbelievably amazing thing I cannot blog that even I wouldn't have predicted writing into the story of my life.
Of course, ten years ago on my birthday (which I spent in Hawaii! epic!), I remember having a contemplative moment with myself on the beach. I thought to myself, "By this time next year, you need to learn to be more open with guys and get yourself some dates and some fun." I wasn't scolding myself; I was just setting a goal.
But it didn't happen. I've never felt confident in the relationship department, and to compensate I've focused almost entirely on educational and career-minded pursuits, only to later whine about failing at relationships.
And all I have left now is a list of 25+ Questions I Keep Asking Myself about What I Really Want. Here are some sample questions:
When I do find a guy, will our relationship be as great as I've been imagining?
If I don't find that relationship, will I become one of those girls who settles?
If I decide not to settle, will I be able to stop kicking myself for being a relationship failure?
Will I ever stop being haunted by the 15-year-old version of myself and that conviction on the beach?
Will I ever be okay with getting my license renewed?
Welcome to my quarter-life crisis.
