Happy Birthday

I’m finally done celebrating this birthday. This year, the whole thing felt a bit odd, and drawn-out. On my actual birthday, the 10th of January, lots of people wished me well, asked what I was doing to celebrate. To which I replied “well, studying for the quiz tomorrow, mainly.” It was a fairly dull day, overall. The only surprising part was that there wasn’t a blizzard. As a Canadian with an early January birthday, I’ve had more white-outs the day of than not.

Friday I celebrated with my fiancé’s family. Which was great, but it was really just a dinner and a bottle of wine, followed by games. Like a very low-key Christmas. Similarly, we just had dinner with my family, and a couple of games. Nice quiet events.

I received a few presents, and they are lovely, but it’s becoming obvious that, at the age of twenty five, not only do people not really feel the need to get me anything, I also don’t particularly want anything from other people. Most of the things I want right now are life events, not objects.

Further, now that I’ve reached a quarter century, I’m starting to feel… I guess mature is closest to meaning what I’m thinking, although it’s not quite the right word. My body is starting its long, graceful slide downhill: I’ve lost some of my extreme flexibility, I can’t handle sleeplessness nearly as well as I used to, and I am starting to fall out of the “way too young to have to worry about X health problem” age group. The number of doctor appointments I’ve had in the last year are proof of that!

That’s just age, though. None of it surprising. At the same time, I’m entering my true years of physical prime: Better strength, better coordination. Better sense, so that I can focus these on one task, a figure that I’ve never been more comfortable with. Life is still pretty great, even with the occasional melancholy moment.

I only really notice the downsides when I’m among my classmates. Just occasionally, I remember that some of my colleagues are still several years younger than me, and I suspect they’ve not really had anything much happen to them yet. It feels like a bit of a gap. Sort of a loss of camaraderie.

I still think, however, that getting into med school the second time around is the best part of my life. Not only did I have a wonderful year banging around the philosophy department at the U of A, I also had another year to get just a little bit older and work on being a person. Having more practice being a person strikes me as something that will be handy for medicine.

So overall I think I’m okay with losing the big party for the birthday, with getting older, with my desires cooling. The best birthday present is still that extra year of being, working towards being an ultimate “me.” Even if I do have sudden nap attacks.

nap copy


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