When I was younger, I never understood why people were hesitant to give their ages. Why anyone would ever lie about how old they were, or why some celebrities refused to give the number, instead preferring to be called “thirtyish.” Well. I’m kind of getting it now. But in the interest of full and total disclosure, as of today I have two more weeks (two!) before I turn…wait for it….thirty-five. Yes, that’s 35, 3-5, halfway to 70, etc, etc. I know it’s weird to say this, and even weirder to write it, but it really has just kind of crept up on me. I mean, I know I’ve been 34 for almost a full year, but I’ve been busy, and I just haven’t really thought about it that much until recently. To be honest, the last five years have been kind of a blur. And I didn’t freak out about turning 30, because I was too busy freaking out about getting married, which I was doing four days later. (Freaking out nervous, not freaking out cold feet, just so you know.) But now, 35 is almost upon me, and I’m trying to wrap my mind around it.
I know 35 isn’t old, really. That age is just a number, it doesn’t mean anything. But there is something about 35 that makes you think it’s time to take stock, figure out exactly where you’re at, and where you’re going. But everytime I try to do that, I get a headache and have to go lie down. (Old age? Could be.) Considering I am the queen of nostalgia, this has to mean something. The truth is, as hard as it is to get older, I wouldn’t want to go back to any of my earlier years, either. You couldn’t pay me enough to be back in my twenties again (way too stressful, too much drama) or even my early thirties (when it still seemed to take a lot longer to figure out how to deal with the stress and drama). So I find myself wanting to embrace 35, as much as I can, and the best way to do that, I think, is to make sure I’m happy with everything that came before it. Which, pretty much, I am. Even the bad stuff, because it made the good that much better, you know?
What I’ve decided to do, for the next two weeks, is really concentrate on the things I feel I should do before I turn 35. Any last minute things I haven’t done yet, that I should do before moving onto this next phase. Ideally, I’d go off backpacking across Europe, but I am hardly spontaneous. Even if I was, that kind of thing takes a bit of planning, so I guess it’s out. I always wanted an eyebrow piercing. But isn’t that so over now? Probably. Hmmm. I’ll have to think on this. I have two weeks, at least. Most likely, I’ll need it.
Well, at least there is an upside to birthdays. Like surviving another year intact. And having good friends and family around who love you. And cake. Again, the good things are that much better when put up against the things you’re not so thrilled about. And as long as the good outweigh the bad, I’ve got nothing to complain about. Not even 35.