She goes to bed 32 years old. A single mother who runs her own business. She wakes up 15 years old. Terrified. Sound like the premise for a cheesy airport novel? (or suspiciously similar to the movie, 13 going on 30). Well it is. It’s also Naomi Jocobs’ true story of losing 17 years of memory overnight due to Transient Global Amnesia.
I don’t know all the factors that can lead to something that sounds made-up, but the story did make me think… how would I feel if I woke up in my current life as my 15 year old self? Would I be happy? proud? disappointed? panicked?
At 15, I knew a few things. I knew I wanted to do something significant. I knew I didn’t want to be a doctor. I knew Mr Darcy was close to perfect. I knew I wasn’t athletic. And I knew I’d have to get over my shyness.
Twelve years later, I know less. But I’m arguably more athletic and definitely less shy. I don’t know what “something significant” could possibly entail and I’m suspicious of anything that pretends to fall into the category. I still wonder if I should’ve been a doctor after all to provide some level of “essential,” if not “significant,” service. And I sympathize with Mr Darcy’s pride. Or is it his prejudice…
My 15 year old self would be surprised more than anything else to wake up to who I am today. Your teenage years are supposed to be for change and development of a purposeful identity. I was relatively consistent across these transition years and instead moved the flux up to my twenties where I sometimes get the sense that I’m waking up to a different human being on an almost daily basis. I’m at once in love with the world and disgusted by it. I’m motivated by some drive that believes in an inherent good and yet paralyzed by a perceived impossibility to actually nudge anything in the “right” direction. I’m a lot more negative than my 15 year old self would suspect. More reckless too. Definitely more interesting.
The negativity would probably bother 15 year old me. I keep trying to course-correct it, grasp at glimpses of the bright and shiny. But they flit away as quickly as they come. The internet tells me to write three new sources of gratitude daily, meditate, drink water, exercise, do an act of kindness – these are supposed to shift my mentality. Apparently I’m just twenty one days of positivity habits away from bright and shiny. And I try. But maybe I like wallowing in the negative. Maybe it’s safer. Maybe it absolves me from doing anything productive because well, what’s the point anyway.
I don’t know. All I know is, 15 year old me would be confused by all the angst.