23

Has anyone ever written about turning 23? It’s the forgotten age, the middle kid. Is it because we’re secretly heartbroken that we can't scream along to 22 by Taylor Swift anymore? That one time on my birthday last year, drunk in the cab home, was enough for me. She had her moment, let’s move on.

Why is it that we reflect on our lives every time a birthday comes close? As if we’re losing grip on our way of living just because the number is changing. In the end we as humans love to identify ourselves in any way possible. Age is just another way to do that and birthdays are an excuse to reinvent ourselves. I’ll take it! Watch me get seven tattoos and dye my hair purple in the next week.

23 is a weird age if you ask me. You’re on the verge of adulthood yet your teenage years are still holding on to you for dear life. You still remember being the youngest one in the room, when now most of the time you feel the opposite. You haven’t forgotten what it’s like to drink bottles of cheap wine in your best friends’ room. Hey, you might have been doing that last weekend, who knows. But do you feel like a grown-up? Are you what you expected yourself to be at this age? Or worse, what society expects you to be. God, I hope I’m not.

I still remember when I was around 10-11 wondering what being 20-something would be like. My nephews and nieces, who’re all quite a bit older than I am, looked like full blown adults to me. Damn, they were so cool. Will I ever be that cool? More than 10 years later, I don’t think I’m able to answer that question objectively. But is the world still equally as daunting? Yes, absolutely yes. Do adults still freak you out? I’d say so. Do you have a house, a partner, kids, a job?? Chill down honey, I don’t even have my drivers license.

Yet you’ve already had a significant amount of life experience to be able to make some -not always the smartest- life decisions. Like moving to a different country all by yourself. Huh, what?? If you do mess up, you won’t get judged too harshly at this point in life. You’re young, dumb and probably broke but pretty much okay with that. Nobody knows what they’re doing anyway, right? Or is this just a commonly accepted excuse used by miserable people to give their lives a bit more sense? 

Being 22 was pretty damn great and hard at the same time.

I feel like I got way more comfortable with who I am this last year. I discovered a lot of assets about me that I didn’t even know were there. Exploring your identity, along with the world around you is a crucial part of your early twenties. For me this means taking chances and listening to whatever your heart tells you to do. Even if that means taking the difficult route.

I met a lot of amazing people, danced one to many nights away and felt more independent and happy than ever. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last year it’s to not push things too hard, especially myself. 

Things happen for a reason. People come and go. Oh, one last sappy overused quote you ask? Don’t be so damn hard on yourself!!! (you’re welcome)

21-year-old-me was still… well exactly that. She tried really hard to be someone she’s not, only to become someone to other people. It’s exhausting to make yourself feel like you need to fit in somewhere, when you know you never really will. It’s even more suffocating to feel like you need to be the best (read coolest, funniest, smartest, most talented, busiest AND hottest) version of yourself all the time.

I think I’ve learned to see the beauty in imperfection, in averageness, even in pain and loneliness.

Now what would I tell myself a year ago? It’s okay to not be on top of your game yet. It’s okay to have no idea where you’re going sometimes. As long as you keep moving and growing. As long as you’re honest about who you are. People will appreciate that in you. Maybe even, if you’re feeling bold, show your soft side every once in a while. We all know it’s there anyway. But please never lose your resting bitch face. It’s not only your trademark but also a tool that will come in handy greatly in the next few years!

“Soooo, what do you want to achieve while being 23?”

Come on, cut me some slack. I’m someone who rarely knows what I’m up to. One second I might want to get a masters degree in philosophy. The next day I’m watching youtube videos on how to become a yoga instructor. For now I’m more than okay with being exactly where I am. That’s a first and hopefully not a last. I’m okay with falling in love with the little things again like writing, painting or dancing. With drinking my morning coffee on the balcony, watching the city slowly wake up with me. Or just with chilling with the local café cats. How could I not be?

Spending my last weeks as a 22-year-old in Istanbul has been amazingly grounding. It has made me reconnect with a part of me that I seem to forget about sometimes. My dreamy side or my hippie side, some may call it. I call it my…”I could leave everything behind to travel the world all by myself and be absolutely fine with it” side. My dad just calls it my “you need to come back down to reality” side. Fine, I’ll get a degree, find a boring job and pay taxes like everyone else.

There’s just something so incredibly freeing about being away from your comfort zone for a while. Discovering new places, cultures, even people. It’s the one feeling that I know I’ll crave forever. 

I can only hope this next year is filled to the brim with love, adventure and some more -not always the smartest- life decisions . Aaand maybe some baklava and rakı to celebrate tonight, why not!

☀