The other week it was my birthday, and I reached what I felt like was a big grown up age, 24. 24 is an age where I thought I would have had ‘my shit sorted out’ by. 24 sounds like an actual adult age. I still think of myself in my teenage years trying to sort my life out, but in fact, I’ve now been alive a whole 24 years.


When I think back to when I was 18 and I would think ahead to being 24 I pictured myself in a really good job, with my own place, maybe even be married.


When in reality while I do have a good job, I’m still at a rather junior level and feel like I’m only really starting in my career. Although I’ve bought my own place, I’m still waiting to exchange and have a moving date, so really I’m still living with my parents. And well no I’m not married, or actually even thinking about it anytime soon. 


I don’t know why I put a huge pressure on myself to have achieved things. When I look at my friends many of them are settled down, in their own homes, maybe even married with children. While it may seem like they’ve achieved more than me, it’s not that I haven’t. I’ve been to university, I’ve got into a career that I really wanted to be in. It might have taken a while, but I’m where I should be.


While I’m not where I thought I would be by now, 24 doesn’t look half bad. Hopefully in the next few weeks I’ll be moving into my one bedroom flat with Chris, and our kitty Jeff, where the three of us can start our next adventure. I’m looking forward to decorating, and buying things for our home. I’m even looking forward to cooking my own meals! 


Turning 24 doesn’t seem as scary as I first thought. I’m still in my early twenties, with lots of things to look forward to. No I’m not where I thought I would be, but there’s no rush to get there. I need to remember that in the grand scheme of things, I’m still very young, time is very much on my side.