I have this belief that no matter how old you are now, mentally you have an age at which you stick and cannot exceed. For me that age is twenty-eight. In my head I will always be that almost-adult who had been living with my partner for two years in rented accommodation, had a steady and enjoyable job, and adopted a rescue dog. Despite that being seven years ago (or more, depending on when you are reading this) I still don’t really feel any more “grown-up” – even though I now have a mortgage and consider myself forging a career in the cultural sector. Perhaps it’s because twenty-eight was the age at which I considered myself successful in life: I was happy and determined, and felt I was on the right track to building an amazing life. Little did I know that I would suffer with a virus and have that life effectively put on hold while I developed not one, but two disabilities (more of that later this month). Maybe that’s exactly why I can’t seem to think of myself getting any older: because before twenty-eight my life had so much promise and potential and I’d really like to imagine what life might have been had such things not happened.
Whatever the reason, in my head I’m still twenty-eight and flush with the possibility of where life might take me. So, what’s your age? And why do you think you will never get any older than that?