My Teenage Heart

I am at that age when it’s getting easier for me to accept my quirks, my peculiarities, my idiosyncrasies. They are, of course, what gives me my individuality, what makes me “Me.” I used to wish that I could change somehow, but no more.

I know that, for instance, when I get a piece of bad news, news of some sort of crisis, or news that angers me, my immediate response is to panic and overreact. Everything else stops. My heart races, I start to breathe too quickly and too shallowly, and sometimes my ears even ring a little (okay maybe the ear ringing part is an exaggeration, but you get the idea). And it’s okay!! Because I know this about myself, and it only takes me a few seconds to realize that I’m, in fact, overreacting and start to calm myself down.

And I know that I get too attached to people, I put too much stock in people - people that I know fairly well and have a relationship with. Like people that I work with. I assume that I am as important to them as they are to me (that’s hard to admit/write). And then I’m horribly, painfully, sometimes irreversibly let down when that proves to not be true. And although knowing this about myself doesn’t make the disappointment any easier, I am at least aware of it.

But here’s something I’ve only figured out in the last half year or so, and I’m really not sure I should even confess it: I have a teenage heart. That is, when it comes to matters of the heart. My heart still thinks and beats and swoons and aches like a teenage girl. I turn up the radio when I hear David Archuleta singing “Crush.” I love some of the “teen” movies, like “She’s All That,” or “A Walk To Remember.” I loved the “Twilight” series by Stephenie Meyer. (I cried like a two year old who’s lost her blankie when Edward moved away in the beginning of book two.) And I’ve stared longingly at the “Bella and Edward Forever” t-shirts at WalMart, wanting so badly to buy one, but knowing that I’d only be able to wear it to bed, and my husband just wouldn’t understand.

Now, I don’t have crushes on any teen stars. I’m not dressing like a teen, or even wanting to really. I no longer buy sparkly lip gloss or glittery nail polish, and I’m even beginning to shy away from pearlescent eye shadows (mattes look so much better over wrinkles!). I don’t “like, you know, like” have to talk to my friends on the phone five times a day or text them all day from work. I read plenty of “grown up” books and watch plenty of “grown up” movies (yes, some are romances). So really – what’s the harm in crushing on a little teen romance from time to time?

I watch these movies at night after my husband goes to bed, or on Sundays when he goes fishing. And I will probably continue to do so. And maybe I can still get the “Bella and Edward” t-shirt. I’ll just turn it inside out and my husband will never know!