Fireworks and Flashbacks

Life + Love, Reflections

July 11, 2015 / By kelchamberlain / getting older, twenties / Comments Off

I’m going to be honest here. Last weekend for the Fourth of July I really, really started to feel my age. No, not because of aches and pains or anything like that, though I admit to not getting around as easily as I did ten years ago, but that’s just because I’m less fit and more lazy. But that’s a story for another day. If ever.

So, on Saturday a couple of my friends and I planned heading out to Cleveland for fireworks and a get-together on the rooftop of a high-rise, located from the stadium overlooking the city. I know, sounds amazing, right? Most people would be totally psyched to do something like that. But for me, rather than feeling excited to try something different and meet new people, I just felt tired and stressed. I went hiking earlier that day with a friend in from Columbus for a few days, and I really just wanted to have a relaxing evening at home together. But, after a much-needed nap, I got motivated to get my shit together, talked myself into the whole hair/makeup/dress thing, and followed through with the original plan.

It wasn’t long after our arrival that my newly found enthusiasm quickly turned into dread that it would be another 6 hours before I would be back at home in my sweats. I was tired, hungry, and my feet hurt like a bitch in my uncomfortable yet adorable embellished flip flops. As the hours pressed on and fireworks were about to start, I noticed another party that was taking place on a lower rooftop across the street. It hosted a group of twentysomethings appearing to be having the time of their lives as they danced away and sung along to the (way-too-loud) music their DJ was playing.

As I got down on my knees to give my sore feet the break they deserved, the fireworks began and everyone else gazed up at the sky. Instead of doing the same, my eyes stayed focused on the party, watching not just them, but my Twenties flash before my eyes. As I observed them do their thing, I reminisced about my Twenties… and I thought—wow, that used to be me. What. The hell. Happened? Where did the old Kelly go—the spontaneous and carefree one? When was it that I got into a comfort zone that totally detaches me from doing anything that’s too planned out—or even too last-minute—that would make me miss a cozy night indoors with my Netflix and a over-sized glass of wine?

I started thinking about the contrast of my two decades—the girl I was ten years ago versus the woman I am now—and wondered if this is just what happens when you get older? Is it inevitable that you just slow down and settle in? Is that just the way it is, or am I just lame?

In my Twenties—hell, even a little into my Thirties—I packed my weekends with parties, festivals, concerts, sporting events, dance clubs, and bars. I was… wait for it… FUN! Those were the days that I wouldn’t even leave my house until 11 p.m., after having a few cocktails as I got ready. Once I was out and about, I never wanted to go home, which actually irritated my friends who were less enthusiastic to stay out until 3 a.m. I used to live for those nights—and getting all dolled up to go out and flirt with cute guys and enjoy way more pineapple-upside-down-cake-martinis than one should ever consume in just a few short hours. By the way, those things are absolutely amazing and are highly recommended by yours truly.

I never thought I’d end up being the girl that actually gains a sense of relief when friends cancel plans just so I can hang at home and chill with my Netflix. But yep, that’s me these days. And honestly, I actually enjoy the little bubble that I call my comfort zone. I like my routine—I like consistency, predictability, and keeping things mellow. But after this past weekend—I am thinking maybe I like things this way a little too much…

Back to the party—I ended up having a really nice time chatting with people, laughing and even dancing a little (in an older lady snapping-my-fingers-as-I-sway kind of way). But I can see now that it is about time that I make it a point to make time to play and have fun again, just like I did back then. I miss those days—filled with cocktails, dancing, cute guys and cab rides home at 3 in the morning. Not that I have the time or energy to do everything like I used to— and after all, I really enjoy my time at home—but letting loose and giving myself the freedom to be a more carefree is something that I definitely need to put some serious effort into. I don’t ever want to look back and remember that my mid-Thirties were only spent working, resting and more working.

So, tonight I made plans with my best friend. We’re going out of my comfort zone, again, to try out a new restaurant possibly go out for cocktails later on. (What? Did I just say new, like as in never-tried-it-before? Eeek!) But today, I challenge myself to look forward to new possibilities, having a fabulous time, not worrying that X, Y, and Z isn’t getting done, and just having a good old-fashioned time. And next weekend, and the one after that, I challenge myself to do more of the same.

Isn’t that the point of it all anyways? I sure as hell hope so.