The Age Cage

When you're younger, all you want to be is older. From playing dress-up with your mother's clothes and purses to the hope of hanging out with your older sister and her friends and even just being able to been seen as a responsible "young woman," it's always about one thing: your age. We strive to be seen as older, wiser, more mature, when really it doesn't matter. You age dictates it all.

Now, at 29 I find myself still with the same hopes and desires, except this time wearing designer clothes and hoping others won't see me as a "young girl" especially in the work place. Unfortunately, that's not always the case.

No matter where we are in life, why do we always seem to be in the "Age Cage"?

At what point do people stop looking down at you, and start looking up to you? You can bust your butt working hard, day in and day out, go out of your way to make ends meet and bring an enthusiasm unique to your group of colleagues, but does it all really matter?  In the end, how come it always comes down to experience and what age box you fall in?

Criticism seems to only travel down a one-way street.  For instance, people feel it's okay to point out that you're skinny (as if revealing some revelation known only to them) and hey, why not "eat a sandwich" while you're at it. But would the flip side elicit a much more different response? If I were to turn around and tell them to "stop eating sandwiches" or "wow, you gained weight" -- why would that honesty seem rude but calling someone skinny isn't? Why go to those measures instead of pointing out that someone looks "great" or "healthy" or "fit".  That's much more of a compliment than being called "skinny." Yes, it's true people would rather be labeled "skinny" than "fat" or "overweight" but when you receive any type of comment over and over again, one that doesn't necessarily invoke positive feelings, it becomes, plain and simple: hurtful.

So if comments on weight can travel down a one-way street, why does age follow suit? Maybe there's a magic age when the vast majority of people finally accept you for who you are, no matter your age, sex or weight. The comments stop and you start to become part of the group.

But does it ever really stop? Will a whole new generation of people come and go, ultimately experiencing and feeling the same thing? When I turn 30, will the world of thirtysomethingyearolds welcome me with open arms? Or will I receive a whole new flood of questions and comments: why aren't you dating anyone? When will you get married? How come you don't have kids? Is something wrong with you?

One can only hope it's not some vicious cycle that never ends.

Scrapbook of Memories

They say memories are a collection of thoughts; a scrapbook of ideas, emotions and revelations that occurred at a moment in our life that we recall despite choosing to or not. They can be good memories that bring a smile to our face, or bad ones that ultimately lead to tears. Why something becomes part of our mental scrapbook is unbeknownst to us; maybe they're turning points in the novel of our life. They could be big things or little things, and regardless, they are etched eternally in our minds.

Maybe those are the seconds, minutes, hours of our past that we unconsciencely choose to take with us into our future.

Or maybe they're milestones, of different size or significance, that ultimately shape our thoughts, our lives, our world, and when all said and done, we aren't supposed to understand why we remember those times over others.

It has been said that "Time heals all wounds."  But what they don't mention is what gets left behind: scars.

And what sort of memory do those become?

When you look back on all of your physical scars, what's the first thing comes to mind? Is it the anguish and the tears that culminate into the memory that serves as a painful reminder of what you endured?

The way I see it, scars are evidence of life. Proof that we lived, that we made choices, good or bad, that we tried and tried and tried. Maybe failed. But we got right back up and tried again. The wounds and the lessons we learn from them are what make us whole. They are what make You, You.

As we continue to move on to new experiences, figure out what make us tick, and discover the things we want to achieve, why not think fondly of these scars? Why not wear them proudly as if they were gifts from the world telling us plain and simple "Look. You survived."

So go forth. Wear them like medals. Make them shine. Show everyone around you that you did not give up.

You healed. And you're a survivor.

All Aboard To Your Future

A friend recently sent me a thought-provoking quote - "Fate is what you are given. Destiny is what you make of it."

I had to wonder: Can you make a mistake...and miss your fate?

Is this concept is as simple as it sounds? Could it be that everyone's destiny is pre-designed, and with one false move, it might be possible to veer off course on your way to Your Happy Future?

If a first date goes well, was it meant to be? But if you turn down a second date, was it not in the cards? Why is that when we say or do something we mull over later regardless of how small it was, we blame ourselves for the inevitable sad turnout?  

Maybe the saying is true. Things do happen for a reason. If we didn't make mistakes, would we ever learn from the past? Graduate to our future?  Maybe we have to go through the bad, in order to get to the good. The ying doesn't function without the yang; you can't meet Y until you meet X. And in the end, embracing the idea that sometimes life is just that: Life. And in this journey we call life, people come and people go; there's pain, there's sorrow and there's happiness.   

Maybe it's all about taking chances, risks or that leap of faith. Knowing that when it all comes down to it, no matter what happened, you were yourself. Knowing deep down, that's the best kind of fate there is.

Past the Present...and Into Our Future

Wise writer Carrie Bradshaw once said "Maybe the past is like an anchor holding us back. Maybe, you have to let go of who you were to become who you will be."

Is it true that if you don't let go of the past, you stay a victim riddled with hurt feelings and sad emotions? But what is it about the past that we can't seem to forget? 

Maybe we never do move on from the past, but learn to accept situations as they are. That song that makes you think of your ex, the ice skating rink you went to on your first date, or a meal that sparks past stories. Some memories may bring back laughter and smiles; others tears and pain. Do we need to learn to accept painful memories so we can eventually see them in a positive light? And will there always be those that stay in the dark?

Maybe Carrie Bradshaw is right. In order for us to move on, and learn from the past we have to figure out who we were then so we can figure out who we are now. And if that's the truth, maybe people do really become stronger after rough times. 

I couldn't help but wonder: Maybe when it comes to Today, letting go of the Past and embracing the Future is the best Present anyone can receive.

Happily Ever...Closure?

Closure.

Just one little word, but one that holds so much power. What is it about this concept that creeps into women and forces them to need it in order to move on. And is it only women that need it? If guys need it too, in what form of behavior do they show it? Maybe it is just us women that make it known, and guys continue on as if nothing happened, having the coveted ability to bury past emotions deep inside of them.

If one conversation or solicited explanation is all we need to move on, why can't we accept the parental advice or constant praise from our friends instead of from the ex?  Do we truly believe what our friends and family tell us about ourselves, or do we only believe it once a guy confirms what we've needed to hear? Is it any less true if you never get the closure you need? And if you don't get it, will the ghost of your past relationships haunt you forever?

Maybe closure is all about hearing one more time why it didn't work out. Do fairy tales teach us as little girls that everything needs to have a beginning and an end? And when we don't get that "happily ever after," we need to find our own way to put a stamp on it, close the book, blow out the flame. Create the finale in the story of the Two of You; the concluding act in yet another failed relationship.  Is hearing the reason behind the inevitable break-up really the motivating factor in moving on?

When it comes to closure, are we just masochists?

This Post Has No Title...

When you’re young and just a child, you pretend to be a police office, a doctor or maybe even a lawyer. Somehow, no matter what the profession, being something that you weren’t, made you more powerful. And as we grew up, we continued to accumulate more and more titles: student, graduate, employee, aunt, wife, husband, mother.

But when it comes to dating, where does the line blur between “friends with benefits and an actual “boyfriend”? Aren’t both a title? Since when did a title become so powerful that a guy became so scared it hindered him powerless?

I had to wonder: Is Mr. No-Title a title?