To say I’ve been freaking out about my birthday is an understatement. For the past few weeks, my friends and family have been asking me what I want to do for my birthday. I kept replying, nothing, not much… botox?
Today is a big birthday. Huge, in my mind. I’m having trouble typing it right now. I’m now 35. Yes, thirty-five. To some of you this might sound ancient. Or maybe you can totally relate. I don’t know what age you are reading this but as part of my goal this this year to be more open with you, my reader, I just wanted to share how I’ve been dealing with my stress.
Last year I wrote an entire birthday post that upon turning 34, I finally learned that age is just a number. I did believe that… for a while, at least. I spent a year working on myself, building my self esteem back from a toxic relationship that lasted way too long and rediscovering who I was. I finally started to fall in love with myself again.
But in the past month, I took a step back. The number 35 would not leave my head. I started googling things like “is 35 old?” and “turning 35.” The answers were all over the place. There are some that say middle-age begins at 35. Let’s just say that one took some major deep breaths to read. Middle-age?! I don’t feel middle age! Then I realized, maybe they’re right. I mean, 35 means a whole new age demographic. I’ve surpassed 25-34 and now I’m in the 35-44 range!
I went down a dark rabbit hole, reading article after article about turning 35. Some were funny. Some were informational. And some were down right depressing. I started to wonder, should I be freezing my eggs? Is life all downhill from here? What is wrong with me?!
I closed my computer and took Jack Jack for a walk. I took deep breaths and calmed down a bit. But the number was still lurking in my head. I couldn’t get rid of it. 35… 3-5… thirty…five… The next day, I went to the beach, my happy place. I took in even deeper breaths. I inhaled the ocean air and listened to the waves crashing. I sat down and wrote down the number 35 in my journal. Then I crossed it out and replaced it with three words:
i am grateful
I realized there will always be a birthday to freak out about. But as long as you’re healthy, that’s all it is. It’s just the mind having a minor freak out. I thought back to how much anxiety I had about turning 27, then how I initially didn’t even want to have a 30th birthday party because I though I was too old. But both of those birthdays turned out to be incredible. So two days ago, when my best friend asked me for the 100th time if I wanted to do something fun for birthday I let go of fear about turning 35 and just decided to live in the moment. I said yes, and we be booked a last minute trip to recharge.
Do I still feel weird about saying I’m 35? Most definitely. But I’m grateful that I even get to celebrate my birthday. I’m grateful for my incredible friends and supportive family. I’m grateful for you for reading my blog every week and allowing me to do what I love for a living.
The number 35 is still there in my head, but it’s not as harsh. It’s as if a retinol serum softened the scary wrinkles of the number and just let the number glow for what it is. I’m simply trying to remember that even though some people on Google might say 35 is middle age, age really is just a number. It’s up to you to celebrate your life and make it worth living… and to be grateful every step of the way.
“You are never to old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.” — C. S. Lewis