29 Years on the Planet, Greying Hairs, and the Surprising Zen of Getting Older
I remember the first year I realized I was getting older. I was 25, getting ready for a day of coffee and walking with my friend Sam and his puggle Elvis. He texted me saying he was on his way, so I rolled out of bed to get ready. I lazily grabbed a chunk of my hair with a curling wand when I noticed– a grey hair.
Panicking, I called my mom. When she picked up, I began sobbing as I broke the news: I was human, I was aging, and suddenly I was just a mortal. In the middle of the breakdown, I noticed Sam had messaged that he was outside. I plucked the grey strand off my head, re-applied my mascara, and made my way out to the car to share the grim news with him. I turned to him and said, “Sam, I can’t believe it. I’m old. Like a real adult… we are adults,” and he groaned and said, “Cody, stop saying you’re an adult, You’re 25. We are not adults.” It was a fair point. Still, I was devastated.
I assumed I’d start aging when I was comfortable and ready with it. My mom had children fairly young, and she had my youngest brother at 28. I thought, “A grey hair at 25? This must be a fluke. The earliest I could actually get a grey hair is 28, maybe!” because I imagined by that time, I’d magically be a real adult. So I daydreamed regularly about how cool and successful I would be by then, because that to me, was far into the future.
28 year old Cody (January 2020) I was taking a selfie in a university restroom, probably dreaming big dreams in that big parka. (the zipper is broken, hence no zip, only buttoned. haha)
I had read stories in my twenties about successful writers and artists, and how one day everything clicked for them. There’s always a moment, right? Apparently, the greatest creatives all took a plunge, figuratively and financially. It was always described as this itch that wouldn’t go away, where they just yearned for change, until one day they finally decided to just go for it. I wished that I would think of that when my circumstances became so dislikable. I wondered when I’d finally decide, “That’s it. I’m taking the plunge!”
Fast forward to 28, when that plunge moment never really came to me. Careers gets harder once you have to rely on your job for health insurance. I was unhappy, and working at a retail job I had outgrown, after being pushed out of the previous retail job that I loathed. I was just under the assumption that everyone hates their jobs. Being unsure of what you want to do in your late twenties is exhausting and unforgiving, because the world gives you less breaks for trying new things.
I spent half of 2020 doing retail management job from my couch, just reading company policy, and pretending I was excited to go back, using my high-pitched customer service voice in zoom meetings. Eventually my store was looted, and instead of reopening our location, the staff, including myself were let go. I won’t lie– being let go sucks. But after feeling stuck, I knew that being pushed out of the job nest was exactly what I needed to refocus. And this will sound a little petty, but I was actually happy to be free without having to be the one to make the first move of leaving.
This was the moment the writers and artists talked about… the plunge, the going for it, the fake it til’ ya make it nonsense, that now, I was suddenly in the middle of. There’s nothing more terrifying than wondering what will happen if you don’t make money in a pandemic. As my classes began, I registered with unease. I worried about getting poor grades. I didn’t have it in me to get kicked while down. Surprisingly, having a purpose, even if that was just course work… actually inspired me creatively. So, I decided after a long hiatus, that it was time to get back to writing a blog. (hi, this is the blog here)
Me slipping into Lake Superior, September 2020. At least I was wearing a carhartt beanie, so the vibe was immaculate.
I often think I should feel awful… On paper. This year I wasted half of it floating complicitly through a career I knew wasn’t for me anymore. I watched everything Netflix has to offer and slept until noon regularly. I’m one single internship away from having my bachelor’s degree, but no one is hiring interns because of the pandemic, so now getting that piece of paper to help me switch career paths is indefinitely on pause.
With that being said, I’m so much more at peace than I was a year ago because I got to slow down and take a break from hating life, re-aligning myself with my wants, needs, goals, and dreams. Believe me, I was stressed often, but thankfully I was no longer stressed by the crushing weight of relying on making money at a job I outgrew in a career path not meant for me.
I was so focused on being existential and finding the cure (to boredom), that I didn’t realize all the little things I’d accomplished:
I taught myself 8 songs on the ukulele
I learned to code HTML and CSS
I made an entire playable story-based video game
I designed a website for my writing portfolio
I did social media for a successful virtual film festival
I painted 4 paintings, and
Counting this… I’ve written 3 blog posts since October! (yay)
(Below: copy/design I made for the film fest, my game poster, me at the top of a bluff I climbed, a coastal sunset painting, ukulele, 2 other paintings, and a happy selfie)
A week before my 29th birthday, I was trimming my split ends, because I haven’t been to a hairstylist in over a year. That’s when I saw it… a 3-inch grey hair slightly above my right ear.
I thought back to 25, and how I panicked, cried, and plucked the grey from the front of my hairline. I won’t lie– I planned on taking this one out too! I decided to wait until my boyfriend got home to show him. When Eric got home, I dragged him to the bathroom to show him. I lifted my hair up, and there it was. He nodded and said, “Yup. That’s a grey hair, alright,” and then he pushing a chunk of hair further over, and said, “Wait, there’s two here!”
I sat for a moment and waited for the tears, but they never came. I looked at Eric, and he glanced at my reflection in the mirror and shrugged. He asked if I wanted the hair plucked. I set my hair back into place, smiled at him, and shook my head. I’m keeping them for now. For this rotation around the sun, I lost a job, and I gained back my happiness. Time stood still, but I somehow became a year older. The only proof I have of that is on my head.
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