Quarterlife Crisis: Old Soul (a.k.a. You’re Only 25?)

Again not all that related to the post but a song for my self-described alter ego. Mary J. Blige “Not Gon’ Cry”

(Plus, it’s just a great song.  While I’m sure it may happen, I hope to never write a post where this song is the best fit…)

In addition to being a late bloomer, I’m also what grandmas would call an old soul.  Despite my age and physical appearance, I’m thought to think (awkward but appropriate phrasing) and behave much like that of a more mature woman.  Jokingly, I’ve described myself as a 42-year-old bitter divorcee with two kids.  While I realize there’s nothing overtly comical about that scenario, I had to find a personality that encapsulated the wise-beyond-her-years, guarded heart, mother to all close to her traits I seem to embody.  So a 42-year-old bitter divorcee with two kids it is.  If you have any other suggestions, please let me know.  I realize I actually used that description on a first date.  While that was completely my fault for not really thinking before I spoke, I might just need a new line.  Luckily, he didn’t seem completely turned off.  Haha.  Oh well, too late now.  Plus, I believe he reads my blog…

If you asked any of my family or early teachers, you’d probably hear stories of a 6-year-old frustrating the mess out of you by being able to hold seemingly intelligent conversations with adults.  “Because I said so” would never have sufficed with me.  And please don’t try to give me some half-ass answer to a question.  If there was even the slightest possibility that I might have heard or, worse, read something to the contrary, you were probably in for a “discussion.”  Now, I was no child genius by any means.  I’ve just been told that I listened more than most kids and was able to put abstract things together faster.  (All the more reason for me not to necessarily want children.  I can’t imagine arguing with a 9-year-old me.  I’d probably want to strangle little me.  For the sake of my sanity and possibly the child’s safety, we’d both need the husband/father to be very compassionate and patient.  But that’s an entirely different post…)

My secondary and even post secondary education days weren’t much different.  While I had a great time with my friends, in the back of my mind, there was a feeling of difference from the larger group.  There was no superiority.  Just a sense of “I don’t get it.”  Now, to be clear, I didn’t feel alienated in any way.  When I was 8, I was 8.  When I was 13, I was 13.  There was just things I questioned more than some and less than others, I guess.  While I had a (potentially) violent temper, I spent less time experimenting and screwing up in high school.  I was more of the reserved kid who sat in the background and just watched everyone else do whatever.  (I hope not in a creepy way…)  I wasn’t above getting wasted and sleeping with 4 good guy friends.  (Ok, maybe I was but that’s not the point.  Those were just bad examples.)  They just didn’t sound like good ideas.  I watched people make their idiotic mistakes and took note NOT to do that.

I wasn’t a complete loser.  I made my bad choices and choices mistakes.  But unlike most people my age, I HAD to find ways to justify them.  I couldn’t just accept youthful indifference and regrettable but not all that impactful dumb choices.  In fact, my descriptions probably made me seem more cold and indifferent but that’s again probably an entirely different post.  Let’s just say that I did less living and probably more time judging.  Sounds pretty boring, huh?

Anyway, this mentality of “I know better.  I’m older than that” has carried with me.  Unless we’re in a social setting where I am surrounded by like-minded, like-aged people, it’s very rare that anyone correctly guess my age.  I’ve been aged by 3-8 years.  While I should be offended that anyone think I could possibly be 33 (I AM after all only 25!), I have to take into account two very important factors.

1.) Put simply: Black don’t Crack.  Black women (and men) are lucky to as a whole age well in comparison to other ethnic groups.  (Running second probably to only Asians.  But that’s debatable.)  I may look 33 now because of the way I dress, act, style my hair, apply my makeup, etc.  BUT there is also a high probability that as long as I take care of myself, I could look 33 when I’m 41.  If that’s the case, I’ll take it now.

And 2.) I simply don’t generally act the way people commonly expect 25-year-olds to act.  Yes, I like to go out, dance, sip on something, pretend I have no responsibilities.  BUT I recognize that I prefer to be the calm, observant one in the background.  I like the security of being (or at least appearing) in control of my words, actions and possibly even my destiny.  (Quite prolific actually.  However, please note I added “appearing” in control.  No one can really be in control.  But I’ll be damned if I don’t try.)

I’m not trying to put a negative label on mid-20-somethings but when people are shocked that I’m only 25, I’ve decided to only take that as a good thing.  Granted, they could just be saying I look old but since I disagree, if that’s what they mean, to hell with them and their opinions.  🙂  I’m only embracing the positive.  The older you get, the closer to 19/undergrad-ish 25 sounds.  I get that.  I am, however, no longer on that level.  I grew up quick (seemingly voluntarily) and have no desire to go back.  Although, every now and again, I’ll give in and have a Halloween Ho moment.  I am afterall only 25.  I’m allowed. Haha.

(I’ve got to do a little something every now again just to remind myself I am still young.  If I don’t, I’m afraid I might begin to regress out of rebellion about the time my physical age catches up with my mental.  I’m terrified I could end up one of those Mariah Carey-like (no offense, I really do love her) moms who dress like their teenage daughters.  That would not be a good look.  I can assure you.   Plus, Ricki Lake is the only one I’d want to give me a makeover and she’s off the air…)

In recent months, potential suitors, new “friends”, older, mature female co-workers, old professors/teachers, current friends, old friends and complete strangers have described me as mature, wise, poised, elegant, regal, favoring Michelle Obama, and “looking like someone people should know. A congresswoman perhaps.”  I sure have come a long way from Steve Urkel and you know what?  I’ll take it!

Sitting up a little straighter at her desk (granted, it’s a stability ball so I have little choice but that’s beside the point),

Jo’van

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