N is for Nostalgia

November is always a very emotional time for me, and it all stems from the weight of it being my birthday month. Ever since I was young I have put November on a lofty pedestal, vigorously celebrating things like crunchy leaves, hot chocolate, an occasional 65 degree day, and the fact that every so often my birthday falls on Election Day. I developed little habits to pay homage to the month, like writing out the full "November" every time I write the date. It was tedious dedication, but a month like mine deserved it, and it's a quirky habit I still haven't fully shaken. I actually think my kid self screwed me over, because now the build up for every tiny "November moment" is so extreme, it almost seems impossible to live up to the expectation.

It's the day before my 23rd birthday, and if you know me at all, you know this plunges me deep into nostalgic contemplation. The whole first week of November typically consists of me buried in my thoughts, whining about memories and huddled under my covers whispering things like "oh my gosh, who knows what's in store?!"  I always try to scoop up and savor the essence of my current self a little too late, but it disappears so fast, like the last 30 seconds of a sunset. How will I know myself at 23? How do I survive a year like this? Who even likes that number?! 

Being in California for this birthday has definitely helped to ease the trauma. I'm excited to break the mold of what I had always just assumed my life would look like. Now that I have nothing to go off of, I'm ready to branch out and accomplish whatever comes to mind. This has been a huge process of preparation and planning, but now I am living with a renewed vibrancy and enthusiasm. It's just the coolest thing. 

It's comical, but the last time I wrote a blog post was two years ago today, as I was coping with my upcoming 21st birthday. I was nostalgic, but proud because all in one week I had my birthday and the 1-month milestones of an apartment and a post-college job.  Here I am, two years later, in California, celebrating once again a birthday, a house, and a job!

This year, as I spend countless hours in my brain dwelling on the past and speculating about the future, Im also trying to magnify my appreciation of this moment. I see the fruits of my current labor, and I think my kid self is patting me on the back, because I'm still working hard to make November stand out as the best month of the year.

On Turning 21 (...bitches!)

On the eve of my 21st birthday, I have taken the time to write down two important points that I always revisit this time of year.  One is a bit silly, and the other is more serious, but both are genuine and heavily dwelt upon in my musings.

My birthday is a highly important date to me.  I wait all year for the otherwise-lousy-turned-spectacular month of November to roll around just so I can flaunt that I am in a celebratory mood for thirty days straight.

After many years of meticulous introspection, I have found the key to always having a successful birthday.
I say this to myself: 

Today, I deserve to be celebrated.  I deserve to celebrate my life; the memories of my past, and the ambitions of my future.  This day, even if I celebrate alone, I celebrate heartily.  Nothing can bring me down; not a punch in the face, not a bad mood, not heavy traffic, and not even having to kill a spider all by myself.  

When I put these expectations on my birthday, they pertain solely to myself.  That way I am not relying on a single person to help me determine if my day meets my standards of satisfaction.  With this mindset I am fully aware that negativity can't bring me down.  In fact, I'm not even affected by it.  It is in this fashion I have celebrated my birthday for many years, and I can happily say that my advice has not once steered me wrong. 

With all that being said, my joy in celebrating birthdays comes with the sobering (...haha) knowledge that growing older takes some time to get used to.    

I've always worked hard at heeding the advice to avoid "wishing your life away."  We've all had that older, wiser adult tell us, "When you're older, you'll be wishing you were young again!"

Because of this effort I've put into appreciating my life in the present, a lot of contemplation goes into my emotional state a month or so before my birthday every year.  Remember when you turned 20?  Everybody complains that turning 20 is no special feat because it's "just a nothing year."  As a 19-year-old, I really dug my heels in.  "Hello?!" I thought, "I'm exiting teenager-hood, these glorious years.  This is BIG, is it not? I have lived seven whole years in this stage.  I know nothing else.  How will I view myself as a 20-year-old?  How will others view me?  How will this event effect the emotional stability of someone who doesn't think she's ready for the world that's hurtling toward her?"

But then I turned 20, even as I squinted and shied away.  And as nostalgic and comfortable as it was for me to dwell on my past and fret my future, a few whispered trials to myself in the mirror, sounding like, "Hi, I'm Heather, and I'm 20," helped me figure out how to feel okay wearing my new identity.

Again I approach that threshold, now a milestone marker that, to my peers, is what they've really been waiting for.  "It's about time!" they shout, while I'm saying, "eh, hold on just one minute."

I feel I need to close my eyes for an indefinite amount of time and soak up the essence of who I am right at this moment, before I'm ushered off into a new age bracket, a new year, a new set of responsibilities, and a new skin to which I will once again have to grow accustomed.  For me, turning a year older is so much more than just getting old.  It's about collecting my experiences, piling them up, honing my abilities, accepting my mistakes, navigating my future, leaving my legacy, all the while feeling every emotion to the highest degree.

Twenty, you've done me well.
Twenty-one, bring it.