I always wanted to be younger and dreaded growing older. Sure, birthdays were fun, but the reality that they brought haunted me. With each year, I become less innocent, more guilt-ridden, less joyful, more anxious, less healthy, more messed up.
Just the thought of being older terrifies me. I do not want to use a cane or go into a nursing home. Nor do I want to watch my children leave the home or my spouse die. In fact, maybe I do not even want a spouse or children.
The thought that something I might have been exposed to will give me cancer or the lack of nutrition that I had will cause osteoporosis is blocked from my mind out of fright. What if I have dementia like my grandmother? How long before I forget everyone, even myself?
I worry about each growing year. However, it is amazing that I have come this far. After all, I never wanted to be as old as I am. This seemed impossible and unbearable at one point in time. Yet, here I am, enjoying being 23.
Yes, the future is scary. I still want to live fully. My fear cannot continue to hold me back.