From childhood to adulthood: the search for meaning

I am Thelonius. I am five. I love mommy. I love daddy. I love God. I like Barney. I like Sesame Street. I like my toys. I am happy.

I am twelve years old. I wish I was 13, because I would be a teenager. Teenagers are cool. They are able to do whatever they want and stay up and watch television late. Teenagers have girlfriends, and they are big kids.

I am thirteen years old. I’m at the youngest and least respected teenage years. I wish I was sixteen, because I will finally be able to get my license. I won’t come home until four in the morning and will get a fast car with a modified exhaust and intake system to go drifting in.

I am seventeen years old. I don’t have any respect from my parents, and I have no freedom. I wish I was eighteen, because I will finally be an adult, and I will be able to move out of this dungeon known as my parents’ house.

I am eighteen. I don’t have enough money to move out. Mommy, I need some money for tuition.

College is a joke, and I can’t wait until I graduate. I should’ve considered the car, medical, cell phone, electricity, and apartment bills. Why do I need to know about which reaction rate is faster? I hate this O-Chem class. This E1 reaction is highly favored? How about I eliminate this class from my schedule? Oh, I need that for med school? Bet, I’ll retake that class. Sorry, can’t come, I gotta study. I wish I was twenty-one, because that’s when I will graduate! Also, I will be able to buy my first 40-ounce of freedom.

I am twenty-one years old. I have drunk feelings, or I feel like I am drunk. What’s 40 plus 32? It is too many ounces. I want to be the first pilot of a completely electric helicopter or be a monk, whichever comes first. I want to quit school and run around my books in a bonfire while chanting in an ancient language. Hangovers don’t end for me, as drinking makes me feel useless throughout the whole day. I wish I was twenty-two, because that’s when I will finish my undergraduate degree.

I am twenty-two. I may never finish my undergraduate degree. I wish I was twenty-six, because that’s the average age that students enter medical school.

I am twenty-six. I can’t wait until I am thirty-one, because I will be done with medical school and will finally be able to make some money!

I am thirty-one. I made more money as a child at my neighborhood lemonade stand. I get paid $20,000 a year for 80 hours of work. Attendings treat us residents like slaves. This career is not for me. I can’t wait until I am forty, because my kids will finally be out of the house. I also heard that forty is the new thirty.

I am thirty-five. I am considered a top earner in the U.S. I bought a car, bought a house, took vacations, got some new fits. Hmm, what else? Another back pain patient requesting disability? Probably just a strain. Let me go ahead and order this MRI; she seems like the litigious type. I miss the dedicated time to learn new things. Things feel a little stagnant.

I am forty. Every day feels like Groundhog Day. It turns out forty is the same old forty that it’s always been. I wish I was 45, because my children will finally be in college and will no longer be a daily burden.

I am forty-five. My girlfriend is just with me because she thinks I have money. Little does she know, I have a negative net worth. My children leech money out of my bank account for tuition and other expenses. Life feels empty …