when will my frontal lobe develop?
a quarter century of reflections
Twenty-five years of age? Damn.
I’m a whole X-Factor category now. I used to laugh at those guys in the over-25s category. I thought X-Factor was their last year to make something of their life that was slowly withering away and about to return to the dust from which they came.
Honestly, I need to sue Luis Walsh and his people. There’s no way they had us believing that life stopped at twenty-five. But the way my knee cracked when I got out of bed this morning, maybe they were onto something.
Twenty-five laps around the Sun (as the young people say). A quarter of a century. The big two five. I’ll spare you the “25 lessons at 25” post and get right to it.
As I write this, I’m overwhelmed with joy and sombre reflection. To some, twenty-five is a must and to others a luxury. I’ve been inundated with constant reminders to celebrate this momentous occasion. Holidays, birthday dinners, staycations – the lot.
Tiktok failed to load.Enable 3rd party cookies or use another browser
The biggest reminder that I’ve taken another step towards my inevitable demise is the oncoming development of my frontal lobe. My peers who have already passed through the ancestral plane unto the great land of twenty-five have told stories of an inner working of your amygdala that is supposed to rewire how you think, perceive and see the world.
I spent the hours before turning twenty-five like a kid waiting for a present at Christmas to fill the PlayStation-sized hole in their heart. I thought finally, after years of tomfoolery and naivety in both judgment and rationale, that I would wake up to a new sense of euphoria and cognitive development. Almost as if I was Scarlett Johanssen from the movie “Lucy”.
All I woke up to on Saturday the 13th of July was a splitting headache. Here I thought I was going to be Professor X, instead I woke up to the irritation of Deadpool.
As much as I am grateful for reaching a new age, it’s given me a lot to think about.
Though I may not be recruited to join the Avengers or the Justice League anytime soon. Although the current socio-political-geo-economical-philo-psychological-enviro-botanical-astro-anthropological climate is bleak. Though everything isn’t figured out yet. As a recent winner of a rap battle once said, “We gon’ be alright”.
I’ve waited too long to reach twenty-five for my frontal lobe to develop in hopes that it will magically make everything alright.
However, no one is coming to save you.
Neither the development of your cognitive brain functions, nor the recent introduction of a new political government nor your boss falling down the stairs and not being able to micro-manage you anymore (sorry I’m speaking to myself, ignore this). Not to say there won’t be help along the way, but it’s to say that twenty-five is the realisation that although there is support, sometimes you have to roll up your sleeves, do up your bootstraps, AND GET TO BLOODY WORK.
The mid-twenties are full of questions that don’t have answers, paths that shouldn't be walked on, and decisions that keep you up to the crack of dawn. We can spend the rest of our twenties waiting for things to give us a sense of clarity that only comes by taking the first step.
I’m not going to wait till my frontal lobe develops to make the right decisions.
We’re not going to blame a lack of time for not learning a new skill or taking up a new hobby. We’re not going to blame the unavailability of friends for not being able to try new experiences. We’re not going to blame poorly funded inner-city London schools for our lack of fiscal education (you’re pushing thirty and still blaming the school for not teaching you how to file your taxes - get a grip!).
Tiktok failed to load.Enable 3rd party cookies or use another browser
As I Grow Older, my reflections for twenty-five are that I can’t keep making excuses.
I need to grow up, look in the mirror and face my problems. We need to take accountability, instead of giving language to the flawed aspects of our lives. It’s not because you’re a Leo, you’re just a bad person – and that’s okay – I’ll give the number to my therapist.
In this Race To Thirty, I hope we all make better life choices while we wait for our frontal lobe to develop. And if yours has already come, what are you waiting for?
Love, Peace, & Blessings,
Abs
As someone that’s turning 24 I appreciate this post. I really do, thank you for sharing it.
what a title !