There’s many postings and blog articles telling you how you should characterize your twenties, what material possessions make you ready to enter your thirties, and the lessons you should have learned on the way to becoming the successful, independent adult that you are today. I’m not hating on these reflections and words of advice, they are humorous and have inspired me to write my own. I am merely suggesting that perhaps the twists of fate that have moved each of us along can’t be summed up with a list of 101 reasons why you’re done with your twenties.
My father’s words come to mind as I asked him about his life experiences and reflections on aging. Response, given in a thick Egyptian accent, “Ahh, ‘ze voice in my head is ‘ze same. So I don’t really even ‘zink of myself as getting older”.
Conversation over… still, there’s something to ponder in his reply…“the voice in my head”.
I know that voice. I’ve heard it since I was a young child. It spoke when I was learning to cope with disappointment, when I felt the reward of my family’s pride in my achievements, when I sat to stare up at the sky with wonder, and in all the many moments in between; seemingly insignificant but combining to shape the person I would become. It was my thinking as I processed and learned from each new life experience, from making my first friend to getting in and getting over our first argument. It reminds me not to touch hot surfaces ever since I grabbed that lid from the pan of bacon, and it encourages me to think before speaking after the embarrassment felt from not doing so.
So what does this voice from my childhood have to do with life’s “bigger”, more adult-like lessons?
Now at age 29, I am still growing. Still encountering firsts and new experiences and hearing that same voice as I process each action I take, words spoken, or connection made. Still trying to read people and identify my place in search of belonging. Perhaps, the underlying humanness of each stage in life is a constant.
What are we looking for as children? To have fun and fit in. To learn what is expected of us, to meet those expectations, receive praise and affection, all in balance with our ability to create and explore our true selves. Is that desire any different in our 20s, our 30s, 40s, or at any other point in our life’s journey? Aren’t we all striving to share the pieces of ourselves that bring us to life through our work, our relationships, our creations, our ideas? And to do so in a manner that fits in with society; enabling us to support ourselves and flourish simultaneously. And isn’t it when these two elements are at odds that we begin to question, feel insecure, and hear more often from that voice in our head. That voice which is perhaps our truest representation of self, operating without egocentric barriers of any kind since it can only be heard by, well, you.
In reminiscing in the “firsts” we encounter in our twenties, or the “firsts” we should encounter in our thirties, we should take note that what defines us is not how many friends we had, how late we stayed up, not the grades we received, the careers we established, or the cars we now own, but our sense of self, and our relationship with ourselves and that voice in our head. It is a constant companion that once helped us to navigate through an uncomfortable walk across the cafeteria and is now guiding us through the challenges of finding a new job.
Thus when considering whether or not we have learned life’s important lessons, let us not put too much weight on what material possessions we have secured, if we fulfilled the ideal 20-something’s lifestyle, nor on how well our personal and professional relationships match the marketed 30-something protocol. Let us measure our life’s learning by the quality of our relationship with self, and how well we responded to that voice in our head.
Did we hear it? Really listen? Honor it? Ignore it? Seek it? Hide it? Appreciate or struggle with it? Have we stopped to acknowledge this inner force that drives us, wonder where it comes from, and put forth efforts to connect with it?
Knowing ourselves is maturity, and being able to be your own best friend, in my experience, is one of aging’s greatest gifts.
