ELIM CIVOLUDAR'S MEMOIRS: PETER PAN SYNDROME

November, 2012

Dear Future, Me,

I hope this letter finds you well.

I wanted to share my reflections with you because you have always been someone I trust to understand me - or at least listen to what I say. You've always meant more to me than just a page in my journal. Every time I opened a new page, it felt like a breeze on my face.

Lately, I've been grappling with growing up and what it means to me. Sometimes, I feel the weight of societal expectations on me - the pressure to conform to specific standards simply because of my age. It's like an unspoken rulebook dictating how I should dress, behave, and even style my hair.

But then I question, "Why should I follow these societal rules?"

Whether it's because of the disapproving views of people (whose opinions I don't care about anyway) who were raised with the mantra that every man in his thirties must have a wife, a job, and security. I've never relied on others to act or do something that makes me comfortable or joyful.

Life is too serious and too short to wait for someone's permission.

Sometimes, I think I am too old to wear ripped jeans (because I'm not a rock star), to dye my hair in crazy combinations, and that it's time to "grow up" and start behaving by my age.

Then I realized I was just 33 years old. My best friend drives a 40-year-old car, and he can still outrun younger cars - not that I enjoy being with him when he does that.

These are miniature expressions of my individuality, my way of asserting myself in a world that often tries to box us into predefined roles. Where did I get the idea that I'm too old for anything? Who gets to decide what's appropriate for someone my age anyway?

I've noticed recently that my decisions in the last year or two are still impulsive and sudden. So, nothing has changed in that regard. That is a relief, right? Or is it?

I used to make decisions for various reasons; sometimes, just wanting to change my hair color was enough to make me leave a well-paid job. Once, but not anymore. Now, I make decisions for the right reasons, which align with my beliefs.

My appearance has been criticized more than once. I have been accused of being afraid of responsibility and growing up and labeled with Peter Pan syndrome. Imagine me - a boy who does not want to grow up.

I have come to accept myself just as I am.

I've found peace and harmony by living authentically and making decisions that resonate with my values. Despite this self-assurance, I still notice the disapproving glances from friends who don't understand why I dress the way I do. My boss, too, has raised an eyebrow at my unconventional hair choices, suggesting that perhaps it's time to embrace a more "mature" appearance.

I wear ripped jeans and dye my hair because I can. I have the freedom to do what I want, and I don't have to answer to anyone for it. Sometimes, I make excuses and find reasons for my behavior, but only to people who know me and support me when I stumble. I do this only to reduce my guilt for putting them to a great test. Being my friend is not easy because my life is like an ocean: unpredictable. That's why all my friends must know how to swim; otherwise, the waves will swallow them.

I'm veering into poetic waters, and that's not the purpose of this text.

I don't feel old and don't believe I'll feel that way even when I am old. This raises a new question: What does old mean to me? Do I already have an old age number in mind, or do I not consider it in numbers?

I don't know how to answer that question. A small part of my mind is still influenced by the upbringing of my guardians, who planned my whole life for me (finish school, serve in the army, get a job, and get married). They thought I should already have my life in order by age thirty. Well, I do not.

I'm sorry for the disappointment. You were both disappointed in me initially, so I have nothing to apologize for. It may not be a life anyone would choose (myself included), but it is mine. That is how I got it, and without false modesty, I think I am doing real miracles with it. And if somewhere in creating a better future I became childish, so what? I can imagine much worse things than that.

Reflecting on my past, I realize that my journey to self-acceptance has been anything but easy. A pivotal moment from my childhood continues to shape my perspective: a conversation I overheard when I was just five years old, revealing that my guardians weren't my biological parents. This revelation shattered my innocence, forcing me to grow up far sooner than I should have.

I never got the chance to experience a carefree childhood, to revel in the joys of youth without the burden of adult responsibilities. They didn't know I heard them (or if they did, they didn't show it), but at that moment, I grew up.

I didn't even get to be Peter Pan for a moment.

Today, I am a product of that experience - a complex tapestry of resilience, vulnerability, strength, and fragility. While I may still carry some scars from that time, I refuse to let them define me. I embrace my freedom to express myself, whether through my appearance or my actions, despite the judgmental stares and unsolicited opinions of others.

Some criticize me and label me as someone afraid of responsibility or unwilling to grow up. They say I have Peter Pan syndrome, but I refuse to let their narrow-mindedness dictate how I live my life. I am comfortable in my own skin, navigating the complexities of adulthood while still holding onto the innocence of youth when necessary.

I like to wear ripped jeans, and I want to dye my hair. Despite that, I KNOW when I should be an adult and when I can allow myself to be a big child. In both cases, I will always do what I believe is right. It doesn't matter whether you are a child or an adult. What matters is that you are human.

So, my dear friend, as I continue this journey of self-discovery, I wanted to share these intimate reflections with you. Thank you for always being there to listen and understand, even when the world around me seems intent on imposing its expectations upon me.

With warm regards,

Your Past Me.