I celebrated my friend Kate’s Birthdays last weekend. We spent the morning swinging gracefully from the treetops, the evening drinking cocktails by the marina and the early hours of the morning watching Adam Sadler romantic comedy gold.
What more could you want from a twenty-sixth Birthday?
You heard right. Twenty-six. We are no longer going to be part of the early twenties club. That part of our lives is over. We may get away with saying we are mid-twenties, but, when push comes to shove, the truth of the matter is, we are closing in on those thirties. Closer and closer each day.
It appears that my five-year-plan is not doing too well. By this age I should be married with at least one bonny babe bouncing on my knee. Perhaps it should be replaced with a twenty-year-plan. That way I could be well on track still.
The week started with my best friend announcing that she is moving to London. Not only is she moving to London, she is moving to London by the end of the month. When she told me I felt a mixture of emotions. Of course, I am ridiculously happy for her, and delighted that she has the opportunity to move into the thrilling unknown. But, then I felt something different. I was gutted that she was leaving, but it also struck a chord. I suddenly realised, it is coming up to three years from when I left ICU. That means it has been three years since I came out of my coma. Three long years. Everyone tells me I have come so far, but I feel like I am nowhere near where I want to be. That five-year-plan feels further away than ever.
When I think about how my friends’ lives are flourishing; with Faith heading off to be an officer in the Army, Ally giving birth to a beautiful baby boy called George, and Jacob a fully qualified Doctor making all sorts of life saving decisions every day; it makes me question what I have been doing these past few years.
Everyone always tells me how great it is that I spend my time volunteering, but what happens when that just isn’t enough anymore?
And so those two dreaded words come to mind.
Anyone who pays attention to any form of news will know how difficult it is for young people to get on the career ladder these days. Not that I would necessarily put myself in the young people category, but I most definitely agree that searching for a job is no mean feat.
You hear about all those people who got ‘Daddy’ to get them a job, and then there are those who just ‘fell into it’, but from my experience, most people have to spend hours filling in job applications to find the key to career happiness.
And so this week will be spent applying for jobs.
And hopefully, with any luck, before I join my friend in the late twenties club, I will have a job and be well on the way to completing my twenty-year-plan.