I’m sure you feel this at all stages of life, in your 30s, 40s, 50s – but it’s right now in my late twenties I feel I’ve taken the greatest jump in maturity. From a few simple behavioural changes to grasping those significant life lessons; the last couple of years have been some of great personal growth.
Down with delivery. There was a time when Menulog had the number one spot on my bookmarks bar, when I reached the 8th free order every other week (thanks Ericyes). It was the time of disposable income and unadulterated laziness. My sister and I once ordered a case of beer off Jimmy Brings simply because we couldn’t be bothered to carry it from the local bottle shop which was less than 200m away (it was really hot OK).
These days Menulog is reserved only for the epic hangovers; when I feel like death warmed up and the very act of drawing the curtains causes me to reel back and hiss in anger at the bright and bustling world. A shell of a human; I can only handle seeing Ollie and a prepubescent delivery boy. On these occasions delivery is golden – but otherwise I’m off it. Soggy chips, moist bread, lukewarm curries, congealed cheese; the truth is it’s just not that nice. I’ve started to care about the quality of food I’m putting in my body. I’d much prefer to walk to ALDI, grab a whole heap of fresh food and have a cook up at home for essentially a quarter of the price. That’s the other thing it’s not that cheap – you’re paying restaurant prices for substandard food.
My home, my castle. I remember my Dad screaming at us to turn the lights off and hang up our wet towels. It’s only since getting my own power bills and having a few adult-children flatmates that I’ve been able to understand (and mirror) his frustration. The seemingly nonsensical things, suddenly make sense.
In my early twenties, I was OK living in a roach infested share house, I had my entire wardrobe in a damp cardboard box - I’d pull out and wear whatever was the least wrinkly and best smelling. Now my clothes are neatly hung or folded. I actually care about the state of my home because it feels like my own. I willingly pick up my clothes, vacuum and mop. I’m at times enthusiastic about cleaning and take pride in my spotless abode.
I'm a professional? Gone are the days of spontaneity and recklessness. These days if I’m planning a midweek biggie, I’m consulting that Outlook calendar first. If I’ve got meetings or presentations the next day - I definitely curb my intoxication level. I hate being tired, sick or underprepared at work. I actually care about my professional reputation - miles apart from when I first started working and my boss and I got so loose he pissed on my front door.
Rollin’ into adult roles. It’s around this age when you’re asked to fill those important positions in your loved ones lives, and rather than freak out you see it as an honour and privilege. I’m an aunty to 7 (soon to be 8), a godmother and the emergency contact for a friend’s toddler. It’s touching to know you’ve been trusted with such responsibility, that they see you as unfailing, dependable support.
Accepting different paths. As kids we’re coerced into taking a formulaic approach to life, we have this idea we’re meant to move through life checking off milestones in strict chronological order: dream job, marriage, house, and baby. When you hit 27 and have none of the aforementioned under your belt, you panic. Until you realise – you’re surrounded by a bunch of happy people who are just like you. Everyone’s on their own unique path and it doesn’t need conform to convention. My life today is not what I’d envisioned, it’s unexpected and that’s what makes it great. I see now there are a million ways to live a fulfilled life and you don’t need the cookie cutter constructs to be happy.
Here’s to many more life lessons, great or small.