What 28 Looks Like

This is not what I thought my life would look like at 28. I imagined a flourishing career, thriving relationships, a family—always seesawing between children and just animals. I imagined owning a home and doing my part in a self-supporting family. I imagined feeling like an adult.

What does it mean to be an adult anyway?

My grandmother has told me on more than one occasion that I need to dress my age. What does that even look like? I’m a part-time Sales Associate in clothing retail, where I may be the oldest Associate. I don’t dress inappropriately. I already naturally look younger than my age (unfortunately), so I don’t need to try to look any younger. Part of my job is literally to wear what we sell, which isn’t hard for me since it’s one of my favorite stores anyway.

In Stratford-Upon-Avon, UK.

But this is not at all where I thought I would be.

For almost three years, I have struggled with where I’m at in life. I had these expectations—realistic or not—of myself, and I thought others had them of me too. I felt as if I had let everyone down. I felt like a failure at life. It took me a long time—and some counseling—to help me realize I wasn’t failing anyone.

One of my favorite books as a kid was Leo The Late Bloomer. It was the first book I read on my own when I learned to read. I liked the book because I felt like it was talking to me. See, I didn’t learn to read until I was in second grade. I had tricked my parents into thinking I could read by memorizing my favorite Dr. Seuss books and then “reading” them to my family at night. They didn’t pick up on it until my teacher said that, while I was talkative and social in class, I was quiet during reading. Once I started seeing a Reading Specialist, I picked up quick and was soon reading at levels above my classmates. It took me a while to grow out of Barney, too, and that is the first thing I remember being teased for by classmates in elementary school. I have always felt like I was developing behind everyone else, and that feeling only intensified as I got older. In junior high and high school, the boys I had crushes on all liked my friends, while I remained “one of the boys.” I wasn’t beautiful, or what was considered beautiful by the high school standards of the early 2000s. So, for my entire childhood and all through my teenage years, I felt like a late bloomer.

And I had never felt it so hard as I did when I graduated graduate school or when everything I had felt comfortable in was ripped out from under me. Suddenly, I felt like I was even farther behind than I previously thought.

But counseling and friends helped me to realize that I’m not really a late bloomer after all.

I love Disney and Harry Potter and coloring and looking for reasons to dress up. I love running and hiking with my dog and exercising. I also like the sense of accomplishment that comes with getting my weekly groceries and having a clean living space.

My dog, Belle, and I on a hike.

Counseling helped me to see that it’s okay to find joy in things, that it’s okay—and not at all childish—to seek them out to protect my mental health. Counseling helped me to see that I’m not behind anyone. It helped me to see that wherever I am is okay. It helped me to see that it’s okay to still be figuring things out.

We have different callings on our lives. Some of us may take a little longer to get there than others. And all of that is okay. Because here’s the thing: we are not all the same. We progress differently. Our testimony is ours alone, and our experiences shape that. They are what make each of our stories unique and special.

I haven’t really figured out what it means to be an adult yet. Heck, I am still figuring out what it means to be me. But faith and counseling have helped me to continue to move forward and figure that out with more confidence than before. They have also made me realize I will continue to find out things about myself on this path, and they have helped me to be more patient with myself and show myself grace.