18 For the Second Time

I celebrated 18 for the second time around in June.

I was 18, 18 years ago.

It felt like a minute between the first and second, even though the first seemed to take for-EV-er.  I couldn't wait to turn 18, so I could buy my own stuff, do whatever I wanted, get my own apartment...what a friggin' scam that was, amiright?!?!

I remember being around 16 or 17 and, before the world wide web was a thing, I'd written and mailed letters to the University of Calgary and Alberta, asking for information on their medicine programs.  I wanted to be a doctor, and I was so excited about the prospects of my future, that I was asking for pamphlets and letters about the schooling I thought I would embark upon.  When my packages came in the mail, I read and re-read them, cover to cover.  The idea that I could be, do, any damn thing I wanted was so scary and so thrilling, all at once!

I reflected on my birthday about what I've accomplished since I first turned 18.
I did not end up at medical school.  Could I have?  Maybe, maybe not.  Instead, I found Medical Laboratory Science, and four years after I graduated from high school, I had a University of Alberta undergrad degree, a career, in Abbotsford, BC and drove a brand new, black Toyota Corolla, and my Dad drove from Fort McMurray to the Fraser Valley approximately 26 times in a span of only 10 months...thanks again Dad (and Mom!).  Since those first 10 months post-University, when I was truly on my own, though I needed many bail-outs while living out by the coast, I've maintained my career.  I've landed a really good guy, and we've made three awe-inspiring, sometimes smack-yourself-up-the-head frustrating little people.  We've been through some sh*t, we're still here, and at 18, I never, never could have known that my marriage would be one of my greatest accomplishments.

While in grade school, I was more academic than athletic.  I didn't have to try very hard to achieve my grades.  I did have to try hard to make sports teams, and I did have to try hard to stay around 150lbs.  At 18, I felt like my whole life was waiting, ready for me to just make all the right choices and then live happily ever after.  I remember considering, deeply, applying for a pharmacy degree.  That meant five years of school, instead of four.  No damn way, I thought!  Four is enough!  Lol!  How foolish was I, that one more year seemed like an infinity more!  I did make the right choice, though, and 14 years later, I still love what I do.  I now know that my career accounts for very little, though at the time I thought it would be what defined me.  Choosing what to do in University felt daunting and urgent, like a wrong choice at this fork in the road could spiral me into eternal failure.  It didn't, and wouldn't, but we don't know these things as youth, and it's probably for good reason.

I think about the fact that a lot people turned 36 this year, and about how many of them might still be waiting for the good stuff to get going, or maybe they've found themselves somewhere they never thought they'd be, or perhaps they're sad that they haven't done what they thought they would.  The ones who aren't too impressed with 36.

I know I'm not the only one who is looking back on these years proudly, with a big a*s smile and a serious sense of accomplishment.  I could never have known that I'd be here.  That I would've done what I've done, and been so crazy proud of myself, yet still dreaming and digging deep for more, for better things for myself.  I certainly didn't wake up the day after my 18th birthday and slap my hands together with a, "LET'S DO THIS!".  I can't say I didn't make mistakes, but I can say that I did my damnedest to learn and grow from the setbacks I encountered.  I'm still making mistakes, and gaining confidence that I can be better, stronger.

Health and longevity has become such a huge part of my life, and although creating tiny humans wasn't a dream of mine when I was but a young 18 year old, it has been such a pleasure being a Mom, and teaching my kids how to care for their bodies so that they themselves get to 36 and feel a whole lotta' hell yea, I'm killing this life thing!

I don't ever want my limiting factor to be my age, or my own body.  I see patients everyday who are imprisoned in their bodies.  They are just waiting.  To see the doctor, for their ailments to, maybe, clear up, for things to be better.  People, who almost joyfully, talk about their conditions, and diseases.  Or how they take a mitt-full of medicine four times a day.  This is not how I want the next 18, or even the 18 after that, to be like.  I've worked hard to have this life, and my intention is to continue to work hard so I can always feel good about where my life has gone.  Life is short, and it feels like as soon as we realize just how short, we're already living on the back half.

I'm doing 18 for the second time, and I'm confident that these next years might even have greater things in store for me.  Not by luck, or by chance, but because I will make the choices and put in the work, so I can reap the benefits.  I'll also be 54 in 18 more years, soooooooooo...