What’s My Age Again?

Age is a funny thing. Like when women are offended if they are asked for their ID when ordering alcohol and if they are not asked for their ID when ordering alcohol. Why not be pleased that you can order alcohol…  

A the beginning of the month, I turned 28 years old. Now I am a humble person, but I will tell anyone who will listen that I was the New Years baby of ’93 in a small city that didn’t have a whole lot of competition. I was born on the 2nd of January, which emphasizes that point. 

Now even though I act like it’s a big deal, having a birthday so close to New Years isn’t i-deal.  

Growing up it was always a struggle to find friends who were up for a birthday celebration. Everyone is holidayed out and enthusiastically starting their short-lived New Years resolutions, (Like so many of you who decided to partake in Dry January, but it ended up being more of a Damp January) but thanks to the lockdown, this was not a concern this year.

Even though people often miss my birthday, they never miss the opportunity to remind me of my age. The age where most of my friends are in committed relationships, popping out babies, buying a home and putting a ring on it. (In no particular order).

The longest commitment I’ve had is with my current landlords, I’m popping acne from excessive mask wearing, I’m buying carpet stain removal in bulk and I’m putting a ring light up for vlogging.  

With all of that being said, I’m exactly where I am supposed to be – a place where people question where I’m supposed to be:

• “You’re getting so close to thirty.” The number 28 is two less than 30.
• “Dating must be really hard at our age. I’m so glad I am not in the dating game anymore.” I’m so glad I’m not currently in the dating game anymore either. 
• “Are you worried you may not be a young Mom?” I’m worried there’s the possibility I could someday be a Mom. I can barely remember to refill my cat’s water dish.
• “Now, that you’re getting older, what are your plans?” Well tonight I’m going to order in and re-watch Bridgerton.

We are still so hung up on what other’s believe the linear of life should be that we might as well go back to 1813 and parade around at balls in the hope to catch someone’s eye. Or the 21st Century version of this – be a contestant on The Bachelor. 

Due to society’s expectations, I never forget my age, but I do sometimes forget…

In Ho Ho Hold On, a resident didn’t wait. Today, I didn’t listen.

It was like any other Thursday morning. We arrived at work to greet one another from six feet a part, were herded to our stall to fill out the health screen and had our temperature checked all before I had enough coffee. 

Once safely on the unit, my therapy aide approached me to discuss the day’s schedule. 

Our site had been on outbreak, so I was primarily working on one unit and my therapy aide was working on the other. This was to ensure as many residents as possible were receiving recreation therapy while on isolation. Therefore, we had barely seen one another in the past two weeks.

By barely, I mean not at all. We had been relying on long winded text messages and emails. Like all of my relationships at the moment. 

Around 11:00am I was trying to locate some supplies and texted the therapy aide to ask where they might be. The text message began with, “please do not respond to this until you begin your shift at 1200…”

She replied, “I’m here, remember? You saw me this morning and talked to me..”

She had switched from an evening shift to a day shift, which I had been aware of and as you all know, I had talked to her in the flesh. 

How does one even apologize for that? Well, I apologized and apologized and apologized some more. 

What’s my age again?

Today is #Bellletstalk Day. Remember to reach out to someone today; you never know how far a hello can go. You could be the reason someone smiles. Heck, you could be the reason someone laughs.