Out of the Golden Years
Sometimes I freak myself out with the reality that I can never go back in time. That doesn’t mean I’m filled with regret about past decisions, but it does mean I think about the past a lot more than I should. About what were supposed to be my golden years. Those tumultuous, dramatic, exhilarating teenage years that were supposed to be the peak of my youth…never existed. Or at least I hope that my teenage years were not the peak of my youth—or my life.
The golden years are the wild, chaotic and fun years that movies, media, and older adults present to us from a young age. The teenage years are what we’re supposed to look forward to when we’re kids (oh the freedom they hold) and they’re the years we’re supposed to reminisce on once true adulthood sets in. I am overly aware that I can’t go back in time; I am only moving forward and getting older. It’s hard for me to not want to experience all the things that are supposed to be beautiful in this lifetime, all the things that are supposed to make my life memorable. I was never left home alone for a weekend to throw the rager of the school year, I never snuck out and drove around late at night with my friends. I never had a prom that was the best night of my life or had that textbook coming-of-age experience. My teenage years were riddled with the mundane: accumulating a catalogue of good grades and extracurriculars, and trying to keep up socially with my friends and peers. Now that my golden years are technically behind me, is this something that kills me to not be able to go back and change? Are those my golden years if they were brassy at best?
I can’t say I’m crushed that my teenage years aren’t entirely what I saw them as in movies and TV shows or even what I envisioned them to be. The few parties I went to as a teenager were filled with people I don’t like, will never relate to, or never remember. But now there are better parties with people I love and will remember forever even if they don’t remember me. In any area code, I can find the perfect people who will sing the best of Taylor Swift’s discography with me. I’ll always have another birthday memory with those I love who make another year worth it.
As such, I like to think of time as my friend. Even if I can’t go back, something more beautiful waits for me in the future. I can accept that my golden years were not what I thought they would be because I know the future has more in store for me. I’ve worked so hard growing up that I realize I deserve to have fun from time to time. I deserve to have more of a balance between the extravagances and the mundane. I do not have to choose one or the other.
I do not have one bone of regret in my body for not having the film-comparable teen experience. If I had not worked so hard then, I wouldn’t be where I am now. I was so driven that nothing in the world could stop me, and I knew I wanted to be here at Queen’s. I knew there was something special here for me and I deserved to find it. I knew I would never understand who I was as a person if I was stuck in the same place, so I was driven to get out of my hometown.
That driven young girl who studied and read and wrote and prepared viciously for university got us to where we are today. She pulled the weight so I can be here with the friends I love, learn about the subjects that exhilarate me, and delve into my passions like writing that I will pursue forever.
Although I know that, and although I’m grateful for where I am today, I sometimes like to imagine otherwise: if I had pushed myself to expand beyond the small group of friends I had, would I be where I am today? Or would I have been happier at home and not have wanted to leave so badly? If I had gone out more and broken the rules everyone told me to follow, would I be more confident? If I had made my own rules, would I care less about my golden years now? Would I still be on the same path I am today? Is that the key to me being less hard on myself when it comes to measuring my own success?
“Are those my golden years if they were brassy at best?”
I like to imagine that girl, but it’s so hard to picture her because I could never relate to her. I could never see myself living that way. I don’t regret not having those idolized golden years. That experience would not have been worth changing myself so deeply, and pushing myself beyond the recognizable, especially when I knew what I wanted.
Since my teenage years were not even close to the most glamorous part of my life, can they be called my golden years? I don’t think so, and I don’t want them to be. When I think about the most exhilarating and tumultuous time of my life, it’s right now. Never before have I been so invested in the things I learn, the people I meet, and the experiences I get to have with people who mean the world to me. If any part of my life were to be a coming-of-age movie, where I’m shown at my happiest and bravest, I hope it would be about the present. Let there be scenes where I’m so excited to write about learning who I am as a woman of colour or someone who is healing from growing up too early. I want to be able to remember the times in my life where I learned about culture and people outside of a white town; to learn about my own culture after so many years without it. Fill that film with montages of nights spent partying and spending time with people I love doing things that make us laugh to this day. The movie can end when I’m ready to step back, sit back, and watch this beautiful film.
Those golden years are exactly what I want to pursue during this time in my life. I deserve to have the outrageous fun I had envisioned for my life when I was sixteen. I deserve to let that incredibly driven girl know that her hard work paid off, and that we earned a break. We earned the time to make memories, to indulge, and to explore. Even though there are many good things waiting for us in the future, the present is ours for the taking. Every single good thing we are meant to have will find its way to us.
Everyone deserves their golden years. Whether you had them when you were 16, or they start when you’re 45, bask in your golden years with the trust that everything will work out and that you deserve to have fun in your life. You deserve to experience the drama, exhilaration, and emotions of your golden years to their fullest when you’re ready to.
Header by: Sadie Levine
