By Melissa Spady (Contributor) – Email
Print Edition: May 22, 2013
If you haven’t already noticed, we live in an inherently ageist society. In my 20s I still find myself being berated for being “too young” and simultaneously “doing it wrong.”
Let’s take a step back: when I was a little girl of eight, I often fantasized about what it would be like to be 13. For me, 13 was the pinnacle of awesomeness and I couldn’t wait to be a part of it. Thirteen came around and my newly-teenaged and angst-filled soul longed to be older. Sixteen meant you could get a driver’s license, kiss boys and sneak drinks from your parents’ liquor cabinet with your friends on hot summer nights. As suspected, when I reached the sweet middle of my adolescence, not much had changed. This pattern has been following me around for most of my life. I recently told it to hit the road, and I’ve never felt more pleased to be exactly where I am. I just turned 24, and I’m pretty excited about that.
The thought finally occurred to me when, at a baseball game, a 30-something told me I was “so young.” I bit my tongue to avoid being snarky, but the cogs creaked into motion. I noticed I wished I was 30. Why? What am I waiting for? Is there some kind of magical door frame you walk through when you’re 30, and suddenly the world is more mature and every building has exposed brick? I don’t think so. There is no such thing as “the golden age.” There’s a swanky song with the same title, but in terms of an actual age in your life where everything is perfect, stop holding your breath for it. No such thing exists. I feel like I’ve been waiting for some kind of indication that I can finally start enjoying the fruits my age group can offer. BEEP! You may now enjoy your age. If only.
I see a lot of people falling victim to the flip side of the age trap, too. Anyone who tells you there is a “right” age for certain life events is lying to you. Sadly, I’ve noticed a lot of people planning out their entire lives based on which age they feel they should have x, y, or z. At 22 I want to graduate, meet the blank of my dreams at 23, date for a year, get married at 25, start having babies/pets/whatever at 26 … it’s nauseating to think about the pressure to make things happen. Whatever happened to everything in due time? Maybe I’m just a late bloomer—maybe it’s because I’m an idealist who has big issues with authority—but that seems absolutely ridiculous to me. I’m not about to let some conceptual life plan crush the dreams I have just because I’m a square peg and it’s a round hole.
The age trap is reversible. You’re too young to do what you want, and when you’re finally old enough, you’re doing it wrong. There is no peace of mind. My advice? Stop letting outside influences decide what’s right for you and when. A practical way to do this is to catch yourself absent-mindedly spewing this to other people. Most of us don’t even realize when we’re doing it, but we’re all guilty of telling someone junior to us that they’re simply not ready to handle the world yet or giving a cock-eyed look when a friend deviates from “the plan.” When you stop pushing it onto other people, you’ll stop letting other people push it onto you.
The right age is now. Make sure to enjoy it while it’s here. Stop waiting for the universe to align or you’ll spend your whole life wishing for the spectacular things next year has to offer.
