How did I imagine my 30’s, as a teenager

By 13th September 2020 No Comments
    8 mins

There is a time in everyone’s life when we think that thirty years old is still far away and surely before this magic number will hit us in the face, many miracles will happen along the way. Similar to the movie “Back to the Future”.

After all, we have a lot of time to discover what we want, and on the way, we can “for five more minutes” swing on the swing. This time is being a teenager. When every problem symbolizes the end of the world and we don’t realize that there are such things as taxes or the lack of your favourite blueberry jam in the store, and today you wanted pancakes with THAT jam. I remember that while at school, when someone mentioned to the students that a certain teacher is thirty years old, we would automatically think “what an oldy!”. I don’t know how it is nowadays when we are surrounded by ready-made answers to every possible question asked on Google, but the source of knowledge in those years was in teen magazines. Our ancient Internet. My experiences, which I am describing, concern how I (in the times of “Twist” and “Bravo”) imagined myself entering the age that I will hit in very few days.

„How do you imagine yourself ten years from now?”

Have you ever had the impression that when you imagined yourself at a certain age, everything was arranged, your dreams came true and nothing would be missing? This is how I imagined myself. I was sure that I would be a fulfilled mother of two children, and work would give me a lot of joy and professional fulfilment. And that travelling will be an inherent feature of my lifestyle – the only acceptable routine.

Well, two things came true and I couldn’t have better dreamed of what I have now. Although, the rest is a total mess and I don’t feel bad about it. Most of the time… Only sometimes, I feel a deep sadness that I’m not with someone who is perfectly suited to my character, and me – to his. Because each of us wants someone who will push us forward, and at worst times will extend a helpful hand.

You think too much, INFP.

I’ve always been an overthinking person, but I was also sure with age it would pass by. I mean, maybe the frequency will decrease and I will enter “adulthood”, where family and work are everyday life. There is no time for useless thoughts because you have to ensure the existence for your family. We all know that the picture has changed, thankfully, because I couldn’t imagine myself in this role. I remember a moment as a teenager when I was making up my eyes for school, and I said to myself: “Paulina, do you imagine yourself doing the same thing every day until the end of your days ?!”. I was clearly saying “no!”

My personality type is just like that, overwhelmed by thinking too much about everything. These internal conversations are mainly related to the meaning of life, the search for deeper interpersonal relationships, love and questions about professional fulfilment.

For those, who are early birds, constantly working ants (even in their sleep) and not very interested in wandering from club to club at night – is hard to live in a modern world. I love conversations without questions, I love sharing opinions or experiences, and I can sit until the very next morning with a person whom I feel very comfortable with, and I won’t even look at the phone all night long. Oh, and I won’t be tired. It is strange because when I am with more people, my internal battery discharges after a few minutes. Sometimes I want people around me so much that when I get to the party… I want to leave as fast as possible and come back to my oasis. But when I get back to the oasis, I want to go back to the people. What is the golden mean?

Have you ever lived in a city full of people, but anyway you felt like you were living in a place where your home is several dozen kilometres away from any other house? Or when you’ve had a lot of friends and none of them can meet you, when you’re feeling extremely down, because “they’re busy” or because they live too far?

Sometimes I miss those times without the Internet. I have the impression that now each of us wants to control the other person, and trust is a luxury that only those who want to be single can afford. The “Hook up” culture scares me and overwhelms me because I still believe that somewhere in the world there is someone who is, at least a bit, like me and will love me as I am. That he doesn’t like to abuse social media, he doesn’t have to post lots of photos on Instagram every few minutes and believes that there is eternal love. Or doesn’t have to check the screen every five seconds.

It is so easy to communicate with the other person now, and yet it is still very hard to get a reply to any message. Doesn’t it make you mad? You try so hard and the person on the other side, despite reading the message, can’t write back a single word immediately after receiving it. If there is time to read it… how can you not have ten seconds to write back?

Incurable romantic?

As a teenager, I wasn’t romantic at all. Or at least I thought so because looking at my diary I’m sure it was just what I said because I wanted to believe it. I had no one who would want to be with me, or around me, so I was creating an image of a hard-to-reach person. The irony. Because I wrote a lot of poems so how could I ever want to believe that I have nothing romantic inside of me? I’ve always dreamed of enveloped letters, flowers, sunsets and just going to the cinema…

I was wrong. But only one thing is ever true. Immortal love. And even though you want her forever, it's still not enough.
If only I could, what I would have said to the younger myself?

If only I could meet my younger self, as in the time-travel movies, I would tell myself to stop being so stressed out and in control of every situation. Everything will work out anyway.

And how do you imagine yourself at 30 years old? Or how did you imagine?


Author Paulina

I'm a writer experimenting with fear, a photographer capturing the unseen, and a daily layout artist. This website is an honest self-talk about all the fears, the runaways, the routines, the jobs, the words, the photographs and the stories I write for you and me.

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