Quarter Century Crisis

I'm too young for this. No really, I am. In this world of accelerated living I have hit my Quarter Century Crisi prematurely (by-the-by who wants to live to be 100 anyway?).

[I also think I'm too young to start writing off every ache and pain as ‘old age.’ But as I can’t be bothered to register with a doctor's surgery in East London and trekking back to Croydon to see a doctor is too much hassle, I'm adopting the ‘old age’ excuse. So I'll just have to deal with limping to school everyday.]

I have everything I need. I live in a great place, in the greatest city in the world.  The kitchen fridge is only ever empty when we’re too lazy to buy anything. I have a job that I enjoy. I have a great family and great friends. God is good. I am blessed beyond measure. I have everything I need. And for the most part I am happy.

So why am I sitting on my bedroom floor, listening Kanye, eating Nutella with a spoon and staring blankly at the wall pondering my life trajectory? Why is it that I'm browsing the self help section of Amazon, wondering if “Twenty Something, Twenty Everything” or “Conquering Your Quarter Life Crisis” is the key to sorting my life out?

I can’t concentrate. I'm not eating properly. And if I think about it too much I can't sleep. One of my best friends thinks I have a secret boyfriend. My mother thinks I have an eating disorder. I think I should just pack my bags and become a missionary. In the Bahamas. Preferably on a beach. With a cocktail in hand.  People who hang out on the beach in the Bahamas need Jesus too you know. And a one way ticket is only £600 (not that I've been looking).

I want to go where God leads but I think He wants me to decide. Only I don’t know what I want (talk about a First World Problem).

School. GCSE’s. A-Levels. University. Travelling. Job.

So far, so predictable, so mundane. Where is the radical life I was planning? I moved to East London to change the world but it pretty much looks the same.

Friends are getting married, working up the career ladder and having babies. Not quite my shade of nail varnish but a comparison none-the-less.

When it comes to work I am (as always) thinking about what to do next. Bahamas anyone?

As for getting married and having kids. Too young. Too dependent on independence and freedom. And too easily bored. A good friend recently told me “If he’s not worth it, then shake the dust from your feet, Child of God.” Amen to that. One of my grandmothers (who is in good health) keeps trying to guilt trip me into having kids by saying that she only wishes she’ll live long enough to see her great grandchildren – I’m the oldest grandchild on that side.  Have you seen what they do to you? And to your clothes? Too many people think I'm into fashion for me to let a child wreck my wardrobe thank you very much (I'm totally on the lookout for an excellent mid length skirt at the mo. Holla if you find a good one).

So here I am. Sitting on my bedroom floor. Listening to Kanye (maybe that’s the problem). Eating Nutella from the jar. Staring blankly at the wall. Yearning for Narnia, because let’s face it; where else would you want to be (besides the Bahamas - obvs)?
But at the end of the day, when all is said and done I rest in a peace not of this world. I rest in a God who is constant despite my inconsistencies. I rest in a God of provision, healing, mercy, grace, forgiveness and above all – love. 

Anyone got some wisdom to share on surviving your Quarter Century Crisis?

P.S. I’m fine. Really I am. I have a life planning session with a friend tomorrow evening.

P.P.S. You youngsters who don’t understand – don't be too smug, it will catch you soon enough. Aches, pains an' all. You have been warned. 

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