When I was 15 years old, I wanted to be 18 so I could learn how to drive, choose my A Levels in a naive attempt to think that would help me figure out life and of course, be legally allowed to drink.

When I turned 18 years old, I wanted to be 21 because that sounded cooler, older and more responsible. 

When I turned 21 years old I wanted to be 24 because I thought I would have it more figured out and perhaps be married with four children and three dogs.

Then I got to 29 years old, and realised life didn’t work like that, and I didn’t actually want to settle until I felt I had lived. And more than anything, I didn’t want to turn 30. And then I got to 30 years old and I didn’t want to turn 31 so much, I genuinely thought I would throw up.

Now we’ll soon be entering my 32nd year of life and I’m confused as to how years are flying past me and won’t be stopping anytime soon. I’m also acutely aware, that I feel OLD. But before you start telling me I’m not, hear me out a second.

The thing is, I agree, 31 years old isn’t old at all, but I feel like this year has made me see, vividly, how precious life is and quite frankly how short it is. The lack of control really scares me and it’s difficult to talk about. Therefore, every time I’m turning a year older, I start freaking out.

Why am I thinking this way?

Good question. A range of reasons I think. For one, this year my Dad has once again had periods of good health one minute, and ill health the next. I understand that this is simply the way it is when someone suffers with Multiple Sclerosis, but I find it hard not to try and worry about anything in a desperate attempt to protect me from potentially upsetting future situations. This then leads me to thinking about all the places I’ve not seen, the people I’ve not met and those I’m desperate to see again, and the life changing experiences that can come from them. I can sometimes feel myself locked in a dark place, imagining a doctor telling me my own body won’t work anymore, and therefore I must do and see everything and anything before that inevitably happens.

It’s taking ‘life’s too short’ to the extreme, and that’s hard to shake off sometimes. When you know deep in your soul that life really IS too short because you’ve seen it being taken away from someone, it can sometimes do the opposite, and instead of inspiring you to see the world and do whatever you want, it exaggerates a fear that you must do everything before it’s too late and everything is taken from you. And that’s not easy to deal with.

Secondly, there are global wars taking place, that seem to be spilling out in the nastiest amount of hatred I have ever really seen. It can be hard to keep faith in the goodness of humanity when there’s such a weird association between crazy governing powers and innocent people. I’ve also realised there’s a clear discrepancy between those that listen to what one wants to say, and the sheer amount of people that just don’t care what others opinions are, as long as they’re the loudest and the most aggressive. I’ve sadly had to close those people off, and it’s hard to think that I’ve entered my third decade yet without people I previously created deep bonds with. How can you predict which meaningful people you’ll lose next in your future years? You can’t, and that also scares me.

Thirdly, my lovely Grandma is 99 years old. I grew up with both my grandparents there for me, every step of a difficult time, with hugs and unconditional love. With every year that gets older, so does she – and I can’t stand it.  I celebrate every moment I have with her, but I selfishly want to turn back time so I can have another 31 years with her. Getting old, whoever it is, can be hard.

Lastly, I feel the classic pangs of ‘what if’. The standard first world problems that I’ve got the good fortune to think about and the world problems I will never be able to control. What if I don’t see everything I need to see before I can’t see it? What if I get told I have an incurable illness and I have to try and decide what to do with my limited time available? What if I never meet the right person? What if I think I’ve met the right person but then he turns out boring, mean and shouts in my face? What if I never have children? What if I can’t afford a house? What if I can never move country? What if the world has a third, fourth and fifth war and we’re all trapped in it? What if the world hatred gets worse? What if I blink and I wake up and I’m 75? What if my Dad gets unwell? What if I’m alone forever until the day I die?

And so on and so forth. Yes, you could say anxiety is a walk in the park.

Is there an answer to this that isn’t just ‘chill the f out Em’? Well, I actually don’t know. Yes, a useless answer but an honest one, nonetheless. I know deep down, that everything I wrote above I am unable to control. I cannot control if I get bad news surrounding any of my family, my friends or indeed myself. I can’t actually see the entire world before I die unless I am a billionaire and sadly I am £100,0000000 short of that. I can’t control if WW3 starts, or the hatred that so readily flows. Nor can I control what other people do or say, no matter how disappointing or lacking in peace their words and actions seem. I can’t control if I never meet the ‘right’ person and nor can I control the fact that maybe they’re stopping themselves from meeting me for whatever reason. I can’t control if I never have kids, my own place or indeed, whether the idea of all of these happy possibilities stops tomorrow, today or just this minute. You don’t know what will happen do you. Instead, I can only focus on what I can control – letting my thoughts and feelings, no matter how panicked about things small or big, simply be. To have faith that, whatever DOES happen in my life, there will always always be light somewhere, and it is down to me to find it, no matter how difficult it feels to do just that.

I also think that I have a guide. I wouldn’t say I’m incredibly spiritual, but I have often hoped that the reason things haven’t worked out for me in my personal life, is because one of the greatest men to have ever lived, is now above me, silently imploring me to keep going down this independent route I’m at. To focus on knowing my worth, and to project it to the world so strongly, that nobody can break it down. That man, the kindest, most thoughtful gentleman, is quietly shaking his head upstairs whenever I’ve fallen for the wrong person, or had dreams crushed for other reasons, and guided me to better and more gentle options. Sometimes I’ve often thought the reason things haven’t worked out well, is because he’s deliberately ensured it, so my future self can thank him later. That, my friends, is my Grandad. And I think, despite all the worries and the anxieties, the combination of me and him, will remind me, it will all work out in the end. 

I actually started writing this months ago, but seeing as I’m only posting it now, it seems fitting to say, now that my life story is over, thanks for reading, I wish you a merry Christmas, happy Chanukah and a fantastic new year! Until next time folks xx