My Story: On Turning 20
By Shalom Obianuju Chidueme. Published in Her Point of View
Aging comes with inexplicable terror, because one day, you wake up and realize a lot of time has passed. You wake up and realize that centuries have passed through your bones.
New beginnings have a way of leaving me a little breathless, leaving me with an ache that I would carry for years. So, when 20 came, I thought I met it with foresight. I thought I had prepared my heart for the things it was going to do to me. I had thought I could stay afloat despite the raging storm in my head. I was wrong.
When I turned 20, I expected something spectacular to happen. I didn’t know what exactly. I just knew that I wanted it to happen. I hoped the universe would acknowledge that something big had taken place. That I had just crossed the teenage threshold but nothing happened. I did not wake up to people screaming and singing in my face. I did not wake up to a million messages. Heck, I didn’t even wake up with a fat account. Of course, I felt like a failure.
The reason I woke up crying that day, you can already tell, but to someone not as emotional as I, it sounded ridiculous. My friends said, “you are alive. You should be thankful and, happy.” So, why did I feel dread sipping into my veins? Why did every shaky breath feel like I was getting closer to my grave?
It beats me.
The knowledge of the rampant and roaming Covid only made it worse. So, the dread of contracting the virus was enough to make it a family party. The friends with whom I would have liked to spend this day also shared my fear, along with busy schedules. It was the opposite of what I had imagined and, I was taking it badly.
At one end of the emotional turmoil, I was joyous. I was 20. I had finally arrived. I would no longer squeeze my lips whenever I needed to recite my age. I could now lift myself from the playful teases of small pikin (child).
But on the other hand, I couldn’t shake off the existential crisis and fear raging in my head. Yes, I was 20, but what have I achieved? What did I have to show for all the years I’d spent alive and afraid and struggling to live. I was grateful for the new beginning but was I truly prepared for it?
It suddenly felt like my whole life was speeding and whistling away. I mean, I was just 18 yesterday. How did I get here? To this place where my dreams were chasing a greying me?
It took more than my overzealous family to get me out of my mood that day. Of course, I acted joyously. Of course, I smiled and took pictures with my cake, of course, there was a feast at home. I partook of it, but every mirror I passed. Every wall or glass merciful enough to show my reflection had me checking for white hairs.
As I moved through the series of activities that day, It dawned on me. This is how people grow old. We live daily, taking hours as minutes and days like hours, we lose track of time and only remember birthdays as special days. Then, one day, we wake up and, we are 20 or 50 and terrified. It is both humbling and chilling at the same time. Suddenly, the phrase, “time is fleeting’’ doesn’t seem so fictional anymore. It is the story of our lives.
When we are little children, we are bold enough to say what we want to be. “I want to be a lawyer in the future,” I said, with no idea that I would not even get to study law. Nobody tells you that the future can have multiple faces, that the future can be as ugly as can be, unimaginably beautiful and unexpected. Because we use the term, future with such optimism, I approached the future with so much optimism and left no room for pessimistic realities to creep in.
20 was my future. There I was full-feet into my future, yet crippled with anxiety. And I did not spend my future dancing with my friends. I did not receive a million gifts. Nothing spectacular or unforgettable happened in my future. My future was here and plain as the day.
Earlier that week, I had made an Instagram post explaining how anxious I felt about the birthday. How I could still not accept that I had lived for 2 decades. Many people reached out, saying they felt the same way. I was glad that I was not alone in my terror. Then, I realized that underneath the exterior: birthday pictures, photoshoots, parties, celebrations, and cakes, deep inside us is the fear of aging.
I had felt it all my birthdays, but somehow, I had never fully addressed it for the fear of facing a hard truth. Time is always going to pass, and I will most definitely age. However, 20 was significant to me, so I could not run away from it.
By the end of my birthday, I had an epiphany. Aging is painful and inevitable. But I can accept it, and I can welcome it though with fear and trepidation, yet also with optimism and open arms. And through the stories shared with me by strangers on the internet, I found enough courage to sit with my fears.
Yes, I don’t have my life figured out yet. Yes, I am still miles away from my dreams. Yes, I am still unsure what it means to be an adult. Yes, I still crave attention and indulgence like a child. Yes, I still feel like I might not survive in this big wide world. Yes, I am still that overwhelmed girl with no idea what to do with her life. Yes, I still get that breathless lightheadedness whenever I think of the never-ending concept of time. Yes, I am 20; sad, hurt, angry, ecstatic, and afraid.
But really, we are all 20, sad, hurt, angry, ecstatic, and afraid.
You are not alone.
A young woman who often finds herself struggling with the weight of other people’s emotions. Shalom is passionate about writing that stirs up emotions and evokes conversations. She believes she can change the world one word at a time. Connect with Instagram, Twitter, LinkedIn, and her blog.
Edited by Titilope Adedokun
Titilope is on a mission to tell authentic stories of women and connect them with much-needed resources and opportunities. Connect with Titilope on LinkedIn and her personal website.
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