The Quintessence of 25

For the record, I only know the word 'quintessence' from The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. Since the film built its structure on the meaning of the number 25, I just put them together. But here, 25 being my recent age.

I'm officially a quarter-century old last month. Nothing special happened because celebrating birthdays isn't part of my family's tradition. We don't do any birthday celebrations other than acknowledging that we're a year older. Although exceptions are coming for my youngest sister who is turning 8 in two months.

The pressure to independently make this birthday more special came to me a few weeks before it. I felt like I needed to buy some presents, but since a new camera or a return ticket to Istanbul were too much to ask for, I settled on buying myself a few books. It's not sad. I didn't want to spend my money in one go (more purchases will always come eventually). 😌

But despite my silence, a few friends noticed and sent me birthday presents containing more books and a mug with the name of my current celebrity crush on it.

Would I rather throw a birthday party or just leave the day like it's just a normal one?

I'd choose the latter. Parties are overwhelming and I feel like throwing parties would make my friends and families feel obliged to give their best. It's a waste too. I'd like simple parties with my friends or families (without too much music and more photo sessions) but with everyone celebrating, not just myself.

The thing about turning 25 is that you started to look back at what you have become after all those years.

I had my fair share of tears, anxiety attacks, heartbreaks, and ear-to-ear smiles too. I never ignore how far behind I am compared to many of my friends who've married or continued their studies and improved their careers. But succumbing to the thought of being a failure will never do me any good.

Seeing how others of similar or even younger age have more successful lives sucks. It's not easy to keep reminding myself that I'm also improving at a more humble speed. But although it often requires massive energy, seeing myself as she is and appreciating her for every single thing she's been through is never implausible.

Looking back at how I handled my heartbreaks back then, how I cried for the life inconveniences I deemed unfair, I realized how many things have turned for the better now; my life in general, and how I've become more mature to appreciate the highs and lows whole-heartedly.

When I was 16, I thought I'd be successful by the mean of happily married, living abroad, and owning a wonderful house. And countless things happened in those 9 years since the hope was written for the first time. Things that were big and small, invoking happy smiles or desperate tears. Even though those things shaped me to only become a 25-year-old who lives with her family, earns a humble amount of paycheck to pay the bills, and whose aesthetic revolves around mixed playlists, feeding stray cats, and reading dramatic books, I don't think the 16-year-old me would be much disappointed.

It started to dawn on me that we only live fully when even the small things excite us. When we find utter happiness everywhere and feel just enough.

When younger me said she wanted to be successful, I think what she meant was "I want to be happy". So when I'm happy, that's pretty much a win like any other win to brag on.

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My diary entry on the night of my birthday:

I'll be proud of myself,

even if the hardest thing I do all day is existing.

Even if my life only matters to my closest family and a few friends.

Even if my biggest achievement is being told, "you spent too much on those cat foods".

I'll never stop loving myself,

even if my bucket list remains unticked for a long while.

Even if I keep grumbling about how hard it is to be me and thinking how incapable I am to carry those weights.

Even if the life I wish to live is so far ahead, the best binocular would only show it as a tiny dot.

I'll wake up every day, appreciating myself for the best, worse, and the average.

For every little progress and step back in between. For all days I feel weak. For all the paragraphs of my thinking that don't make a slight sense. For every happy song, I hope would be my story always. And for everything else. Old and new.

I don't care if I'm two, five, ten, or a thousand steps behind everybody else. Because I was back there then and I'm here now. No matter how far others run, I'm here now living my best future.

- AHA, July 2022