I am currently an ex-cheerleader. I did the whole thing — little kid cheer, high school cheer, college cheer. I did it right up until college graduation actually, and despite years of growing distant from the sport I MISS IT.
So, what changes? There is a shift in focus. In three words: confidence, gratitude, and purpose. Don’t be mistaken, even 30-year-olds falter, but the 20s build-up come together to offer more of these three than you’ve had before.
Don’t bother emailing. Ever. You’ll never get a response to an email.
Our minds struggle with the memory of our childhood fears, encapsulated by an adult body and brain. It’s an interesting paradox to live in: to understand something with an adult brain, manipulated partially by a childhood view.
When my high school’s drama program announced the spring show, Les Miserables — one of the most beautiful and tragic broadway musicals to date — I couldn’t bring myself to audition. Aspirations were questioned. They were changing.
I am a girl who got everything she wanted but was always made to feel like it wasn’t enough. “You can never be happy,” he used to tell me, and oh — how that still hurts to hear.
The person who’s already 50 in their own mind anyway, so whatever.
Anyone more than four years older than me still thinks I’m a kid, which has been and apparently will be true until we’re all over 50 and have kids that resent us. But I just can’t accept the idea that age defines adulthood.
At 20-something, you will be full of confidence and optimism about love and marriage and happy ever after. At nearly 50 you know that sometimes, happy ever after doesn’t happen.
You are no longer the H&M demographic.