I remember being seventeen like it was literally yesterday. But sadly, it’s been seventeen years since. How the fuck did that happen?
Time is fleeting. The years fly by and by and suddenly you’re approaching your mid thirties and questioning how you got there.
When I was seventeen, I didn’t have a care in the world. I worked, I went to school (sort of) and I hung out with my friends. I spent time with my family, went shopping and wore a size five. What a time to be alive!
Now, my cup runneth over with cares. So. Many. Cares. I work, I raise three kids with autism, the only shopping I do is for groceries and I won’t reveal my size but it’s far from a size five.
Not exactly an upgrade, is it?
I suppose it’s all in the way you look at things. While I sometimes long for the days of being seventeen without a care in the world, there are some benefits to being in my thirties. For one, I can buy alcohol without a fake ID. Not that anyone hardly asks for my ID anymore…but I am legally able to do so. I’m not overwhelmed with petty drama like most teenagers are. My drama is far from petty. Bills, child going through puberty, autism, meltdowns…that’s what my thirties self deals with.
It’s funny when your young, all you want to be is older. You fanaticize about how fabulous your life will be when you’re a “grown up”. But the reality is, grown up life isn’t all that glamorous. The young you is thinking of the “fun” part of the game. Not the part that attends IEP meetings, is pretty much always ankle deep in laundry and is always yelling at a kid for something.
If I could go back in time to my seventeen year old self, I would do so many things differently. I think that’s true of most people. I don’t regret all of the choices I’ve made in the last seventeen years, but I do regret some of them. Again, true of most people. I wonder if seventeen years from now, when I’m…well seventeen years older, if I will look back on this time the same way I look back at being seventeen.
There’s only one way to find out!