Come at Me Twenty-Three

"Life sucks. Right when you think you're doing good, even when you have done everything right, it just pushes your right back down again. It's not going to be fair."

Don't you hate it when your mother is right? Each syllable stings with a heavy, weight of transparent honesty. Still, I hate that it is, in fact, accurate.

2 weeks. 4 days. 1 hour. 20 minutes. That is how long I have until I turn 23-years-old and I am still completely uncertain about the direction I'm headed. I realize the older and wiser say "You're young. You have time. You don't need to figure it all out." But I say, "True, but I wish I had at least something figured out."

I'm almost 23-years-old. The same age as Taylor Swift, Ed Sheeran and Emma Watson. Leonardo DiCaprio was 23 when Titanic was released. Heck, people I graduated high-school have two kids and a husband already.

I'm almost 23-years-old. I resent being called a teenager, but my lack of height suggests I just passed my driver's test. I don't quite feel worthy enough to be called an adult, but sometimes "young adult" is just one word too much effort and "20-something" just seems too trendy.

I'm almost 23-years-old. I love my hometown more than I could explain, but I'm keenly aware that the world goes beyond my comfortable borders. I got a taste once of the international sweetness, only to return back to American soil unable to finance a return. I want more than anything to dip my toes into some place I've never been, but my wallet wants nothing more than two dimes to rub together.

I'm almost 23-years-old. College was four of the best years of my life. I made best friends and took classes that instilled a strong sense of post-graduate hope. But now I'm just left with a lot of questions. What's better? A practical career that ensures your taken care of, or a career that requests high risks but results in a passion fulfillment? Then there are loans. Was it worth going thousands of dollars into debt, when the person who went to community college for less is getting the same job as me? Should I spend more money to go to graduate school, so I can get a better job? I don't have "job experience." Were the all-nighters, unpaid internships and volunteer hours pointless? Questions. So many questions.

I'm almost 23-years-old, and my standards are admittedly high. I've witnessed both horrid and beautiful relationships in my lifetime and I vowed long-ago to only settle for the latter. My fifteen-year-old self would want a male-model that sings angelically in a British accent while playing worship songs on a guitar. No, my 23-year-old self doesn't need that. God. Character. Honesty. Humor. And an appreciation for simple, beautiful things. That's it. But my age group spends a majority of their time hovering over books in a library, slaving in a 60+ hour a week entry level job or releasing steam in a crowded bar on a Saturday night. How is one supposed to find meaningful connections amidst awkward small talk, drunk pick-up lines and social media posts?

I'm almost 23-years-old and can't seem to focus on the present. I'm constantly trying to decipher which is better--the past, or the future? On one hand, I long for the days when a I could finish a homework sheet on the school bus in the morning. Don't you miss the days when you could simply call three or four of your friends for a movie night and junk food, and not worry about the twenty other things you could be doing? On the other hand, I day dream constantly about where my life will be in five years. Will I still be in the state? What will my husband (hopefully) look like? What countries will I have traveled to, if any at all? I can't decide if the past or the future is more exciting. And the poor present gets completely neglected.

I'm an almost 23-year-old introvert in a society that demands you need to be extroverted. The question "Why can't you just be more social?" is not uncommon. I am not a shy person. I can talk with the best of them. In fact, I've been called by some loud, chatty and bubbly. But if I am acting that way, it means one of two things: I'm extremely comfortable, or I used almost my entire fill of energy to do so. I can only be in crowded rooms for so long before I'm lonely, and I need alone time on a regular basis to balance myself out. I typically don't speak unless I feel like my words hold a valuable weight. While all these things are true, the world pressures me to "break out of my shell" because I'm "too shy." But I am here to say that I am not.

I'm an almost 23-year-old that loves God more than anything, but can't quite figure out what He wants of me 99 percent of the time. That results in mistakes and regrets, which leads to guilt. And then to apologizing for feeling guilty. It's an endless cycle.

I'm an almost 23-year-old who is a complete Type B and can't maintain a consistent schedule. Schedules feel too constricting. Yet, I can't be productive without one and have mastered the art of a color-coded planner. Tell me how that is fair.

Here's the bottom line: Life sucks. It's confusing. It's happy sometimes and stressful other times. But, as an almost 23-year-old, I realize that life will suck in nes ways when I am an almost 24-year-old, an almost 30-year-old and an almost 75-year-old.

So here's another heart-shooting piece of advice from my mother that is dripping with brutal honesty:

"I'll tell you one thing, you have to keep your head up. If we all could just stay in our rooms and cry, we would. But that would get us no where. You just got to get back up and keep going."

Hey 23, come at me bro.