60 years to be precise. I have gone from expecting my 21st birthday to suddenly being 80. And being old sucks.
To anyone reading this over a certain age, most of this won't be surprising. I wake every morning feeling like I got hit by a truck all over again. My back aches, creaks, and screams, my legs complain as if I'd just run a marathon, etc. I want to be out there conquering the world. Hah!(At least for the moment) To judge from some other people's experiences, this is the condition that I might wake up in for the rest of my life. A daunting thought, one that has scared me more than once.
I know the particulars will change, and there will be days that are better and worse than others. And I am getting stronger; I have come far enough and am modest enough to admit my own accomplishments (harder than it would sound some days) but I still don't know how to reconcile that with the future. Before anyone dares post it I will say it: "Just take one day at a time." A phrase that at the same time says multitudes and precisely nothing. I've learned that this is the only way it is possible; doesn't make it suck any less.
No matter the gains, I'm missing those 60 years I've had stolen. I wanted the chance to be completely irresponsible for at least a little longer, to know that I can abuse my body and know it can handle anything I throw at it. I want to be able to sleep 2, wake up hung over, eat a bowl of cereal, and go to sleep for the rest of the day (to be fair I've already done this, but it's one of the extreme examples that you end up missing no matter how awful it was at the time). I've known precisely what it feels like to be bulletproof; at some level I've always known better but try telling that to a 20 year old, especially yourself (you'll ignore yourself). I wished I had started this blog before anything had happened, to look at the thoughts of a person who no longer exists. Not to say I don't have a new body to try out, but there are no refunds.
Life continues I guess. And maybe its my whining that shows that part of me is still intact. With everything that's happened, 5 months has been a lifetime. Turning 22 seems forever in the distance, and 30 a distant dream. I will grow old (knock on wood), it'll just not be anything close to what I imagined.