Not Old (Yet), Not Young

I’m 28. Maybe that isn’t old, but it certainly isn’t young either. Really, I stopped being honest about my age offline after I turned 26.

I talked a little before about teaching myself coding. The good news is there are a lot of community spaces for learners and newbies. The discouraging news is I find myself very outmatched in age. It seems in so many, if not all, of these spaces, everyone started coding at the age I was still carrying around a teddy bear.

Yes, yes, I know. “You’re never too old.” But figures of speech are just that. Figures of speech. I can never stop being reminded I wasted my youthful years doing… whatever I was doing that is wildly insignificant now. If God is real, when I die, I will ask why he didn’t give me better intuition as a small child. Seriously, why did I miss out on the intuition to build a necessary skill? Probably because I was stupid and wanted to build blocks, and adults let me so I would shut up and stop crying. *sigh*

Eh. Maybe that’s harsh (probably not), but if I had a child, I would absolutely get them started on coding and programming at as early an age as possible so they avoid this problem. Even if they grew to not want a career related to IT, they’d have a skill they can fall back on. That’s the one thing I miss about not having a child. I won’t have the pleasure of watching my child have a better and brighter future than I do. Granted, I’m fantasizing, but I know I do that a lot. I’m beginning to understand why some parents live through their kids. It’s tough to admit you don’t have the capacity/capability to reach your dreams, and your kid has better chances than you via youth. That’s a terrible thing to do to a kid, but I think I understand it.

Truthfully, I don’t think I am capable of learning because coding is such a humongous field, and IT never stops evolving. There will always be things to catch up on, so I have no idea at what point I could consider myself employable, if that point can arrive. Supposedly, it’s not about memorization, but I want to see how that holds up in an actual job. I feel like it doesn’t. But I’ve also known for a long time I’m not good at anything, so why am I talking like this is surprising? It’s not, but you get my drift. I mean, I’m good at finishing coursework, but so are kindergartners, so who cares? I want a skill most tiny children don’t have, not one most do.

Well, this quickly delved into a post of self-loathing. But it’s really honesty and trying to humor myself. I remember being asked what’s unique about me, and I answered I don’t know because I don’t know. Professionally, there is nothing unique about me. I work in a warehouse, I worked in retail, and I finished coursework. By the way, roughly 39% of the US population has a bachelor’s (not associate’s, which is what mine will be) degree, and it can still not be enough to qualify for anything. It really is little more than a piece of paper to bypass filters. Part of me feels like I’m getting it solely to prove I’m not a total idiot (of course, the two are not mutually exclusive).

Do I have any positivity to add to this post? I really don’t. I’m painfully aware my thirtieth birthday is coming sooner than I would like, and I’m simply glad there is no upcoming high school reunion.

Well, I can always achieve my dreams through fictitious means. And really, my only dream was financial stability. I didn’t even reach for the sky and I still fell flat. Ouch.

Keepsakes

When I was a toddler, I had two very favorite items: a teddy bear I called “Kathy”, and a blanket I outgrew in size before kindergarten.

At night, I clung to these items. I remember taking “Kathy” to school, keeping her in my backpack, taking her to summer camp, and even taking her to middle school on one occasion.

My bear and my blanket were old. They were kept clean, but obviously worn and on the receiving end of a lot of love. So, what happened to my childhood treasures.

My blanket was lost first. I still remember its pattern. Fully red one side, the side my mother wrote my name on, and a red and white plaid texture on the side with a rainbow patch in the center. In proving one of the many disadvantages of being the older sibling – and one of my reasons for despising the role – my mom had me give my blanket to my sister for naptime in kindergarten. It was intended to be only for the year. However, anyone who’s ever had a five-year-old can tell you they’re not responsible with things that don’t belong to them.

At the end of the year, my sister left my treasured blanket behind and it was donated. I don’t remember my reaction, but I can’t imagine it was anything less than angry crying, especially because that was the very reason I didn’t want to give my sister my blanket. But “you’re the big sister, you’re supposed to be nice to your sister and set an example”. How about don’t have more than one child if you don’t want to be a role model? My beloved blanket was never replaced. Not that it could be, but she could’ve tried.

As a result of losing my blanket, I clung to “Kathy” more than ever. But sadly, she too was lost and I never learned how.

We moved many times during my childhood. We moved to a new home every year, and to a new city every time I graduated from a school. The last city move was in between school years, which shattered me because I no longer had even that small amount of security. Sadly, this is the move where my loved teddy bear vanished. We had to move all of our belongings to storage for a period of time. I don’t know if Kathy never made it to the storage unit or never made it out, but when we retrieved our things, she was nowhere to be found. Since I was a teenager, I didn’t cry angrily and stomp, but I was heartbroken. On the surface, it’s not a big deal, but it was that one last straw that topped an insurmountable pile of them.

As an adult, I discovered I grew to be somewhat of a hoarder. While I can throw things away, it’s a very difficult task if the item is something I cared about, no matter how long ago. I have no doubt losing my childhood keepsakes planted the seeds for that. It’s not something that affects my daily life, so I see no need for professional intervention, but when I remember my childhood, I still miss my bear and blanket a little. My childhood overall is not one I would repeat, and those treasures were some of the light I had at that time. I have several stuffed toys and bed blankets now, but none of them return the childhood feeling.

A Self-Imposed Deadline

I have a new goal: Become debt-free by 40.

Paying off my debts is already a goal, but that’s focused on my credit card debts. I want to have zero debt whatsoever. No, I don’t care about “leveraging”. Owing money in no way makes me feel good. It really serves only to give me anxiety.

Credit cards: $5,210

Community college: $3,629.10

Student loans: $27,800

Private loans: $10,392.40

Total debt: $47,031.50

So, altogether, I am in $47,031.50 worth of debt at this moment. My 28th birthday is in next month, which means I am giving myself twelve years to pay down all of this debt without accruing more.

($47,031.50 / 12 years = $3919.30 per year) / 12 months =$326.61 per month.

I’ll round it up to $330. I must give a minimum of $330 per month to my debts to be debt-free by age forty. In twelve years, that would total $47,520. Not accounting for interest.

Why did I choose age forty? Because I feel like if I don’t have my life together by that age, there is no hope for my life in any capacity. I am embarrassed to not have my life figured out when I’m nearly pushing thirty. It took me too long to figure out what I want to do as a job. It’s not a good look to have the life of a 20-year-old (school, work, living at home) while everyone else your age, older, and younger is getting married, has kids, new houses and cars, travels, and vacations. And no, that’s not an exaggeration. I’m the only one of my friends who will have completed college, and while it is something I want, it really feels like it pales in comparison because they’re in the place someone around my age is expected to be. At thirty, you’re expected to have the career, the marriage, the kid(s), the car, the house, and the trips. Not all of them have all of that, but all of them have at least one. So, what the heck am I doing? Don’t answer that.

I’m not “young and fresh” anymore. I’m not the future. I’m not a 16-year-old who everyone looks at and thinks of having a bright future ahead. I don’t have all the time in the world. On the contrary, I’m running out of it. If I wanted kids, I have no idea where I would fit them in. I couldn’t imagine where I would fit them in if I went on the standard path, so I can’t imagine how I would fit them in on the unusual path I’m on.

That said, I’ve thought about that a lot, so I want to map it out.

Ages 14 to 18 would be high school.

Ages 18 to 22 would be college.

Work right out of college, so career at 22 (I know that doesn’t always happen, but it’s presumed).

I don’t know when marriage would happen, but I wouldn’t want to marry while in college. No idea when I would meet someone, but I met my boyfriend a few months before my 21st birthday. I would want to wait at least four years before marrying (yes, I know the length of time is irrelevant; it’s a comfort thing), so let’s say 25.

Married at 25, and working for three years. I highly doubt three years is enough to consider yourself “established”. At 30, I would have eight years in the field if I didn’t stop working, but it goes without saying having even one child would interrupt that. I also wouldn’t want to have a child right after getting married. Maybe I wouldn’t wait five years, but I must admit I’m unsure how I’d plan that.

Come to think of it, no one ever says what to do after college. Go to college to get a job. After that, what do you do?

But my point stands, so I repeat: if I couldn’t figure out how to fit a child into my life when I’m doing things right, I have no clue how I’d do it when I am doing everything wrong.

Of course, with 40 being 22 years since adulthood, being debt-free and having a college degree is very little to claim for one’s self. My friends with kids will be halfway done with child-rearing by then, and will no doubt have many more accomplishments (and that of their kids) to their names. And I know it sounds weird to talk about all of this since, as I said, I don’t want kids. But I do occasionally wonder if I’m supposed to want them. The feeling didn’t really happen until one of my friends became a parent, and I sincerely like kids, so it’s not a hate thing. Of course, that would mean I want to be a parent to fit in, not because I want to be a parent, which is a terrible reason to take that plunge.

I also grew up in a family that cared excessively about their image to strangers, absolutely chastised me (and that’s putting it mildly) for not caring, simultaneously sheltered and abused me, and I faced bullying throughout my all of my K – 12 school years. So, that’s probably also influencing my thoughts.

Hopefully, this degree will lead to a job where I make enough money to afford therapy.

Things Change, part 3

Three years later. Let’s make this simple and sweet.

  • I’m in college again. For someone who hates debt and school, I can’t seem to stay out of it. Well, 2020 didn’t help, and the jobs I got after leaving trade school sucked anyway. This time, I’m going for an associate’s degree. The transfer credits helped, though. It’ll take only another year to pursue a bachelor’s, if I choose to.
  • I’m on my third car. It’s older than my niece, but that makes me a little less perfectionist about it. No accidents so far.
  • I’ve been with the company I’m at for 2 1/2 years. Too long, but can’t complain about consistency. I wanted a steady job, and I got one. And it pays more!
  • Moving date is set for January 2023. Boyfriend is coming. Oh, and we’ve been together for seven years now. Well, I’m hooked. In more ways than one.
  • Social media bores me now. Seriously. I never thought I’d see the day I’m tired of it, but nothing about it entertains me. I keep it for my friends. That’s it.
  • Started investing, paying down card debt, made a budget, and opened another bank account. In other words, I’ve gotten heavily into personal finance. Let’s see how long this interest lasts. I give it a year.
  • Gym consistently. Only once a week right now, but it was a start. Three times a week off the bat wasn’t happening.
  • Stopped trying to lose weight. I didn’t like my body at 112 lbs at 12 years old, 122 lbs at 14, 130 lbs at 18, 150 lbs at 22, and I don’t like it at 175 lbs at 27. I don’t like the stretch marks, bumps, the look of my toes, my eyes (brown is boring), my height, or my hair either. And a variety of other things. In fact, I want surgery. Do you see where I’m going with this? There has never been a time in my life when I liked my body – even the times I lost weight (hence why I regained it) – and it’s safe to say at this point, there never will be. But the gym is fun, so I do that.

Something I’ve noticed is when I become secure in a certain position, I begin to feel bored and crave something else. Maybe that’s because I’m used to chaos. I won’t ruin the few good things I have. I want things to be secure and consistent. I want to know what will happen, so I can plan for it. And I want my brain to stop fantasizing!

 

Intermittent Goals

I can’t think of a better name for goals you make in the middle of the year.

Recently, the thought occurred to me I likely meet so few of my goals because I overwhelm myself with them or get stupidly excited. Hence why I skated only once since buying skates for myself. That, and skate rinks have really weird hours.

I want to try setting some not-so-pressured goals for myself and see where that goes. Since this blog needs activity anyway, why not here?

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