I dreaded being 25. To me 24 had seemed fresh and young but with a little bit of experience. 26 looking sophisticated.. older but sussed at it. 25 just seemed a naff inbetween with none of the benefits of being old or young. And yet here I am 2 days to go and I’ve never wanted to leave an age less.
A lot has happened to 25 year old me.
My company put a big lump of faith in me and gave me a big promotion to Associate Publisher.
I applied and was accepted onto the Board of Trustees for Girlguiding, the UK’s leading charity for girls and young women.
I moved to a real home (with a boy no less) in London that I would be quite happy not leaving for the foreseeable future.
And mainly thanks to the above I’m feel far more settled than I have in a long while. I have singing lessons, I go to Toastmasters, I spend my Friday nights with teenage Girl Guides, I have a zoo membership and it’s just 10 minutes walk from my house, I have lavender plants on my front porch, my walk to and from walk is part green fields and part stunning metropolis, I watch Netflix and lots of American TV, my family all seem stable and happy for the time being, some friends are happier while some are transitioning but all are brave and get more so every day, I have girlie trips to Berlin and Paris planned, I have adventures with the boy in the pipeline to Iceland and Japan and Austrian Skiing and a mega tour of the US, and I finally have the budget to buy something from Reiss… 😉
There is still a lot of shit too, and a lot that pulls me down every single day. It’s taking far longer than I ever imagined it would to become the person I want to be. But now and then I’ll have a moment, usually insignificant, where I stop and think ‘woah, when did I get here?’. Here is an increasingly good place.
I want to be happy, and I want to make the world a better place.
I’m getting there