When I was 23 I would see that meme on Facebook, you know the one about how when Oprah and Tina Fey and everyone else was 23 they were no where near the greatness we currently associate them with. And I tried nervously to shake on with the tiny dog poo hope that this would be true about me as well. It was hard because I was cleaning toilets in sweaty Orlando Florida and spending my spare time watching Girls naked on my couch while trying to keep the electricity in my crappy apartment on.
The transition to my current 24 I can't even remember but it was a much more positively rewarding year. After hitting what I (fingers-crossed) hope was my lowest point of adulthood I somehow was able to move back to my beloved California and regain control of the Apocalypse horse that was my life up until that moment. It would be foolish and ungrateful for me to not divulge that it was the blood, sweat, and commitment of my Skye's parents that both shielded us from the Orlando shelter system and allowed this re branding to occur in such a dignified consciousness.
Yeah, 24 has been a course correcting, re branding, restart of a year. But as it approaches 25 I can't help but wonder point blank "What The Fuck Man?" A year full of the highest highs coming to an end and along with it my youth... My youth, the very thing that separated my personal tragedies from those of the average masses and allowed me the pity of security. As I sit in my living room accompanied by my husband and child I realize that I am no longer a child and am fully responsible for every movement and breath I take. Worse yet for me, my career aspirations and creative output are completely in my control.
This scares the shit out of me.
Because I know it is all up to me now. If I want to sing all I have to do is sing. If I want to write all I have to do is write. The soul direction of my life is an imaginative footstep away. And while this may sound like the literal definition of freedom to some, for me it is a case study in mental aerobics enough to cause me daily panic attacks and late night food binges at the worst of times. One piece of me wants to have the creative output of at least a slow day Eddie Murphy while the other half sees fit to do nothing but pass the time away eating McDonald's and watching Weeds. (Best Show Ever).
At 23 I was still under the illusion, like most, that a major moment would define when my "real life" would begin, a starting gun if you will. Coming face to face with 25 I understand now that the race began day one and how far I go is completely dependent on how far I am willing to walk.
Courtney had a one year old.
She had left her 6th college
without so much as an associates degree.
She to scrub toilets for a living
and was selling her furniture to move in
with her in-laws.
Starting 25,
Courtney has a three year old.
She has a better apartment in a better place.
She has the world at her feet and the desire
to move forward.
With an umbrella, a safe, and a gun
She has the courage to move on.
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