I turned 25

Last week, I turned 25. Now, I usually would not announce this. I have removed every trace of my birthday from my social platforms. I do this not because birthdays aren't important to me- they kind of are. I do this because every year on my birthday, I am slapped in the face with a tidal wave of reminders of all the promises I never kept to myself, or all the milestones I failed to achieve by each coming age. But now, I'm 25 years old, and I hate myself a little less now.

I'm 25 years old, and I hate myself a little less now.

I promise this won't be a depressing blog, so allow me to elaborate. Aging is a strange phenomenon in our culture. With every climbing age we welcome a new list of expectations, more boxes to check off. I don't think this is an issue that is unique to young adults. You've heard the phrase, "keeping up with the Jones's." This phrase reflected the early stages of capitalism in the 1950's in the United States, when catalogs with new promises of happy were dropped at every door, and the inflation rate still encouraged daily indulgences.

Every year on my birthday, I am slapped in the face with a tidal wave of reminders of all the promises I never kept to myself.

Well, now we're faced with the glorious stage of social media, our modern catalog of brightly colored images that tease who we could be and what we could have, through the rose colored lens of what they want us to see. But this time, the faces in the modern catalog are people we actually know, right after we scroll past a Kardashian's face. If you grew up in witness to the growth of YouTube, you also witnessed "average" people make it big, and realized those opportunities could possibly be yours.

I've watched every video on Youtube out there on how to stop worrying about "being behind" your peers, and only felt an ounce more of comfort. Regardless of our personal achievements, it's human nature to look to our neighbor and compare the grass.

As I mentioned, this year's birthday felt different for me. I wasn't as freaked out as I usually am, hyper-focused on the imaginary unchecked boxes. I kept wondering, why this year in particularly, am I so calm about aging? I even celebrated myself a little. I didn't cry once on my birthday (normally a secret tradition.) I was happy. Relieved, even.

I kept wondering, why this year in particularly, am I so calm about aging?

It is because I have been focusing on the bigger picture in regards to Poppy. I had a lightbulb moment when I was 24. I was high, laying on my bed, trying to understand why if I was doing everything right, did I feel so tired. I had the apartment, a promising job, a disciplined routine and a little bit of a drinking problem. And then it hit me. I didn't even like what I was doing. I didn't like the clothes I was wearing, the job I had, or the workout I forced myself to attend regardless of how I was feeling.

My lifestyle had been expertly tailored to what I needed to stay safe and accepted. I could see the real Paulina hovering over me, laughing at how predictable I had become. I realized that the things I truly want don't reflect the life I was portraying, the images I see through media, or even in my peers. I won't lie, it really freaked me out to realize my personhood had been built out of fear to be accepted by others.

I was high, laying on my bed, trying to understand why if I was doing everything right, did I feel so tired.

This earth shattering realization comes to a lot of us in our twenties, as many of us defensively built the person we thought we needed to be in order to be loved and safe. I began to second guess all my interests and paying attention to ways I was actually felt about something, versus how I thought I should feel.

I am still actively deconstructing this version of Paulina, picking off the qualities I benefit from and bringing them over to the real version I saw for myself. Now, comparing my path to that of my peers has became almost difficult, because they don't look similar at all. But hey, it still happens. Even though I promised myself that my life would be unusual, the unusualness of it dually makes me anxious. If I fail at being Poppy, how will I fit back into society?

The reality is, I will fail.

The reality is, I will fail. But I'm 25 and it's a great time to fail for the benefit of Poppy's future. I encourage you too, to do the same. To look at the bigger picture for your life and move with that intention.

Your path is your own and nobody else's. I think as long as you keep moving forward, and take breaks when you need to, everything will be alright. And every birthday will just get better.

Picked from the Poppy Field