Childhood and Other Sad Stories
When I was growing up, I often heard the following cliches:
"Your childhood is the best time of your life"
"Youth is wasted on the young."
"High school are the best years of your life."
"College years are the best years of your life."
Even as a kid, I was highly skeptical of those phrases. I remember feeling idignant that the adults assumed I was frittering away my days in blissful ignorance, unappreciative of my youth. For as long as I can remember, I have been happy at whichever age I succeeded in reaching, rarely wanting to be older, never wishing I could go back in time.
While I had a loving family and many pleasant experiences, in general looking back on my childhood, it sucked. I will not divulge the reasons why at the moment, but be content with the knowledge that I am much happier being an adult even in my underemployed, poverty-striken, unmarried state of existence.
By the time I reached high school, I had adults telling me whistfully, "Oh, high school! Those were the best years of my life. Cherish these days because they will soon be over."
If they meant it as an encouragement, they failed miserably. After such an announcement, I would be filled with terror. These are supposed to be the best years of my life!? Then what kind of hell awaits me after I graduate?
After a moment, realizing these adults were full of shit, I'd look at them pitiably and wonder what kind of hell THEY were living in that their happiest days left them far behind in the years of puberty and pimples.
In college, I had people declare similar sentiments with misty eyes, but by that time, I knew they were lying or had some twisted sense of humor. Already, my life had improved drastically after leaving high school, so that proved the "high school is the best time of your life" naysayers dead wrong. Why should I start trusting the "college years" believers?
I don't understand people who look back on whole decades of their lives and wish that they could return or who insist that those far-gone years were the "best" of their life. How could they possibly know that? As far as I know, unless they were dead and talking to me as ghosts or could somehow forsee the future, they had no idea what glorious years could be waiting before them!
Being an adult has been so decidedly better than being a child, that I sometimes find myself looking at precious children in pity. As a child, you are clueless, lost, alone, with little say in the decisions that drastically affect your life, and with little understanding of how to navigate the world's sorrows or confusions. As we get older, we learn these things step by step. The sorrows may grow deeper, but at least we learn to accept them in a way we can't as a child.
I've learned over the years how to fill my life with delight and endless learning, play, silliness, depth, close relationships, wonder, purposeful work, love for those suffering along with me in the world, and instead of becoming drudgery, my life grows increasingly richer as I choose to fill my days with things, people, places, and decisions that make sense for me.
This kind of living takes intentional, hard work, to drown out the naysayers who can't see the possibilities at their fingertips. It often means taking steps that are out of step with the world's expectations of how your life "should" look. Most of all, this kind of living requires pain. It hurts to work through lies of the past, disappointments of the present, and fears of the future in order to see yourself and your purpose clearly enough to move forward with hope. But I have found, that as I work through the growing pains and continue to choose priorities and delights that are in line with who I am discovering myself to be, my years are better by the day!
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