XXXIV

Age of Autonomy.

When you’re young and you make an outlandish decision, its funny how people can often assume you’re not acting autonomously. Because the youth are so easily swayed by the opinion of others. Because young minds are not yet so developed as to make such decisions with complete independence. I got married at 20, and despite every effort to prove otherwise, I know that amongst my family, distant friends, loose relations, there is an undergirding notion that it was because my friends were doing it (they weren’t) or because my church encourages it (it doesn’t), or because someone once told me it was a good idea (they never have).

Autonomy;    acting independently or having the freedom to do so; derived from the Greek word meaning ‘to have self government’; in Kantian philosophy meaning to act in accordance with moral duty rather than ones desires.

I have autonomy. At the age of 20 I do. I'm self governed – I live out of home, I make my own decision, I earn my own money, I believe my own beliefs. So why when I choose to get married – or had I chosen something else for that matter: to cut off all my hair in support of a charity, to become vegan in a plight against animal cruelty, to move to Tibet and live with the monks for a season, to become a missionary, to quit my studies and become a full time writer (oh, god forbid), to get pregnant on purpose – do I suddenly get misaligned with puberty-blues-ing teenagers who are only just learning to decide whether or not to take extension English in high school, or whether they want to try soccer instead of netball.

Ageism is a funny thing. The old have misconstrued ideas about the young, and it definitely happens vice versa. “Why cant we all just get along?”

Because we care. My elderly neighbour cares that my life is fragile, and one life-altering decision could leave me miserable or content for the rest of my life, and there’s a weight in the balance between those two possibilities. He cares that he made bad decisions in his life and regardless of the (lack of) proximity of my life to his, he cares enough to speak up in caution, lest he should save me making the one decision I would always look back on with regret. My parents care about my happiness. They care if I make the right decisions because – selfishly – they’ll have to be there when the fallout comes.  But – less selfishly – they only want the best for my life. Maybe if we all cared a little less the world would be a more peaceful place and people could get on with their shit and not worry about anyone else’s.

Oh wait… that would suck. Right. Well, bring on the caring then.

Autonomy is overrated. Hear that thirteen-year-old princess? It is. Make your parents proud, do well in school, be happy with your friends, do normal things, don’t go looking for trouble, live life to the full in a way that brings joy and hope and peace, not destruction and anxiety, and sobbing and moaning. Be happy. You are the master of your own happiness – that is the one autonomy we are all granted in this lifetime that no one can remove from our jurisdiction. That is ours. steward it well.