… is a weird age, because you start to realise that from here on in, any milestones are fairly frivolous - you will continue to learn, continue to evolve your attitudes, and hopefully continue to improve, but that fundamental 21-year-long development process is more or less over.
I’m in limbo at the moment: I can’t begin a career, because any job I take in the next few months will be over before I know it. My current job is part-time, and I’m learning, but there are things I could be doing - courses I could be taking - that I’m deliberately avoiding because it would all be cut short.
This isn’t a complaint, exactly - it’s more a recognition that there are elements of my life that are only likely to begin next year. (I’ll still be moving to the United States this year, but the law forbids me from working until I receive my immigration documents granting me indefinite leave to remain - a best case scenario puts this at a month, worst case at a few more, so I likely won’t be looking for a job the second I touch down in Boston.) It’s not so distant that I feel hopeless, but there’s this constant reminder that the things I fill my life with now are symptomatic of waiting for the future, rather than embracing it.
On the worst days, it’s frustrating. Anxiety still bothers me. Every day is an exercise in getting better at dealing with it, and it’s a sign of progress that I’m still on a curve of having more good days than bad ones, but at the same time I recognise that the bad ones still exist. When illness, or storms, or any number of uncontrollable factors slow things down, sometimes there’s the red flare that yells that you have put things on hold for this, and that you’re making a sacrifice, and - no.
Having the freedom to leave the country and live with my fiancé without being constantly terrified about the next month’s rent is an extremely privileged position to occupy. Having a period where I can soak up as much culture as possible, to finish my book, to spend quality time with friends and (dare I say it) family before I climb onto a plane with no certain return date - these are all really good things, and the fact that I sometimes forget them to dwell on my career - important, of course, but people ruled by their jobs are rarely happy - is all guided by a constant slide to negativity that I’m trying my best to fight against.
I have so many reasons to be pleased with my lot at the moment. Yes, there are things missing. Two key things: the physical presence of the person I intend to marry, and a job that has potentially unlimited room to develop. These are big things, but so is unfettered access to my best friend. So is the fact that I was able to sit down today and write a thousand words without shoring aside time. Cheap(ish) public transport. Disposable income. Three public libraries within walking distance - lots of things within walking distance. The ability to talk to my Mum whenever I feel like it. These are things I should always value.
And I’m trying. I really am. What was about 60% of the time, the rest ruled by apathy and that perpetual tightness in my chest, has been steadily increasing for some time. I’m still holding out hope that it’ll increase to 100%. One day at a time. It’s okay to feel like you’re on a journey without constantly noting that the destination is a few hundred miles off. No-one wants to be the kid who can’t stop whining. “Are we there yet?” No, but while you were looking sullen and shifting in your seat you missed a hundred beautiful landmarks.