It has been one day, three hours, and twenty-two minutes since I turned twenty-one.
(I’m the weirdo who counts from their exact time of birth and not from when the clock strikes midnight.) Do I count as a twenty-something or is that name reserved for those who are in their mid-twenties? Do I even want to be counted as a twenty-something or do I want to be referred to by my proper age? Such sage questions from a soul so old and wise 😉 I’m tellin’ ya, turning twenty-one changes a person.
If you had asked five year old Victoria what she would be doing a twenty-one, she would have said: “Being a princess” or simply looked confused. The concept of growing up and being a “proper adult” was not something that was important to me when I was busy playing with Barbie dolls, and raising ducklings.
If you had asked eleven year old Victoria what she would be doing at twenty-one, she would have said: “Farming” or “Saving animals”. I’m not going to lie, there was one point in my life when I was 100% convinced that I was going to marry a farmer and spend the rest of my life working with animals. I would still be quite content to do that. I do like the city life, but I am just a small town, farm girl at heart.
If you had asked fifteen year old Victoria what she would be doing at twenty-one, she would have said: “Working as a journalist” or “Travelling”. This was around the age that I realised that I really liked writing, in any form. It was also when I lived on a farm in Missouri. Talk about turning life on its head. I thought I would have found (and completed) a degree that I loved and would be working in my chosen profession by now. Ha.
If you had asked twenty year old Victoria what she would be doing at twenty-one, you probably would have been met with a sigh, a shrug of the shoulders, and an eye roll. Truth is: I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m comfortable in this fact. It’s something I’ve realised in the last six months or so, but it is a powerful truth.
I’m twenty-one and I’m still at university.
I’m twenty-one and I’m living in a new city.
I’m twenty-one and I’ve changed my degree structure more than once.
I’m twenty-one and I don’t have a job.
I’m twenty-one and I don’t have a boyfriend.
I’m twenty-one and I still need my mum.
I’m twenty-one and I’m figuring out that no one really knows what they’re doing.
I’m twenty-one and I’m figuring out that it is okay to not know what I want.
I’m twenty-one and I’m figuring out that I like where I am.