25 and Me

How young is too young for a midlife crisis?

Early next month, I turn 25. According to the Social Security Administration’s Life Expectancy Calculator, I have 56.4 years left on this earth. So why does it feel like my life is flying by?

I’ve never been a sad-on-my-birthday person. As fellow late-December, early-January babies can probably relate, I’ve never been a big birthday person, period. Don’t get me wrong; my family and friends are incredibly kind and go out of their way to distinguish my birthday from Christmas. But whether I was turning 18 the first day back to high school after winter break or turning 21 in my parents’ basement instead of at a college bar, the calendar conspired to make my birthday less of an event and more of a day in which I happen to collect free drinks and sides from a bunch of chain restaurants.

I also subscribe to the notion that after you turn 21, birthdays in general are supposed to be more low-key. But something about 25 and its perfectly square digits has sent me in a bit of tailspin.