35 feels real. I know that it is a relatively “nothing” age. People dread and celebrate and give specific Hallmark cards for 30 and 40. But 35? Shut up and pay your mortgage.
But that’s just it. I’m a 35-year-old in the newly dubbed “unluckiest generation” - the experts finally realized it wasn’t the avocados’ fault that Millennials make less money then other generations - and I have devoted literally my entire adult life to creative pursuits. That means that there is no mortgage as far as the eye can see.
(Also, I am sorry if this is how you found out how old I am. I understand if you need to take a seat because you thought I was fully ten years younger than I am.)
To be fair, I first felt capital A Adulthood at 33. Shit 33?! Jesus got his career off the ground by then, so I guess it’s time I do that (by starting a religion).
I know, I know. Some of you are 26 with kids and a Real Job (had those before, they suck - especially when there is a ping pong table. You see that bad boy in the office and you just KNOW you’re about to be asked to work 60 hour weeks). But I always think of it this way because I am a Spooky Queen with a Weird Brain: if you died, at what age do people stop saying ‘they were so young’?
And now, surely, you see my point.
35 feels ADULT to me. It feels very undeniably adult. In your early 30s, you can still be a mess. In fact, in my experience, a lot of people kind of go insane and do one last wildly 20s thing in their early 30s that usually has worse effects than if they had done that thing in their 20s. Big lesson I’ve learned in life: You’re never too old to make a mess, but the older you get the faster you’re expected to clean it up.
Now that I am very ADULT - technically, even, middle-aged??? if society must call me that, then they have to give me a sword - I have to take stock of what my life actually is. I know a lot of people see me on social media or wearing my Halloween-printed dresses and think that I have a glamorous life. Okay, sure! I guess I do!
Let me take you through a day in the life of a 35-year-old professional writer and comedian who is earning her MFA.
Morning:
I wake up naturally, with no help of an alarm clock (because my cat has figured out that pounding on the door of my armoire at 7:00 AM will wake me up to feed him). The sun’s rays pour in through the living room that we’ve decided is our bedroom in a Savannah’s Victorian District (a man was shot and killed at the gas station across the street two months ago). After feeding my cats (who were being very loud and very bad and now they are sleeping comfortably), I meet with my personal trainer Nicole (a pilates instructor on Youtube called Move with Nicole. I do not know this woman. She looks like she has a nice house).
After working out for roughly 30 minutes (sometimes 10 because I am tie-tie), I make coffee and enjoy a yogurt parfait (vanilla yogurt that I put chocolate chips in to make breakfast dessert).
As a busy working writer, I have to check my inbox (filled with spam I keep unsubscribing to that keeps coming back like a Twilight Zone episode).
Then I check my bank account to see how all of those numbers are doin’ (bad).
Afternoon:
After finding motivation from my (very poor) bank account, I freelance for the (adult) entertainment website I work for, writing articles for several hours (or until my right wrist starts hurting from a workplace injury I got as a temp for Groupon when I was 22-years-old and it’s great to be a temp during the recession and unable to file for worker’s comp).
I make myself a cup of green tea with honey and switch to my creative pursuits (googling facts about The Olympics).
Evening:
Since I am a student, I have to go to those pesky classes! This quarter my classes are mostly at night (which diminishes my bank account AGAIN because my second job is giving ghost tours…at night…when the ghosts are awake). At around 4:00 in the afternoon, I have a sensible meal (dinner. It’s my dinner. I eat dinner at an elderly time because my tummy hurts if I eat too late) and then I walk to class (in 90 degree heat with 90% humidity).
I enjoy studying (with people who are a decade younger than me) and learning new perspectives (they all love anime) while I share my unique, Mature Woman’s perspective (they hate it. they’re bored. they can’t relate). After class, we all bond and enjoy riveting conversations (no one drinks, so we don’t. I tell them stories about my many fits and starts in this undustry and they check their phones).
If I don’t still have to give a late night ghost tour, then I can go home and allow myself 2.5 hours to unwind by watching TV with my boyfriend. If I have to give a ghost tour, then I have to worry about being haunted because I come home too tired to sage the spirits away (they are obsessed with me!!!)
I hopefully earned $100.
And that’s my glamorous life!
In all seriousness, I don’t mind getting older and I try to fight ageism by actually telling people how old I am (brave for woman).
So, on that sincere note, here are little wisdoms I’ve learned in my 35 years:
Get up and move if you’re able to! Take a walk. Drink water. Stretch.
Those weird relationships and hookups in your 20s? Very distant memories as you grow older. Like you might not even remember names of people you dated. Was it Jorb? Jerf? Aw, I hope Jerf is doing well.
Before you contact that person that you haven’t talked to in a while, ask yourself how they might respond. I’m talking like exes or people you may have pissed off. If it isn’t an apology or a genuine check-in, then they might not be pleased to hear from you.
Communicate. I don’t care if you “hate confrontation”. You’re acting weird to me and it’ll just get weirder over time if we don’t say, “hey, is everything okay? Things feel weird.” As I get older, I really respect people who do that.
Not everything is “self-care”. You don’t have a right to constant comfort. Not every single person has to “serve you”. That can be selfish thinking disguised in therapy talk (who among us millennials hasn’t been guilty of that?). Life can be uncomfortable. Emotions are natural. Sometimes people need your help. True compassion is understanding this. True kindness is showing up.
You don’t have to monetize everything. You can do something because you love it or you want to.
Extend grace. If you want someone to believe in your capacity for growth, you have to extend that to others as well.
Compliment people! It’s nice! Don’t be stingy with acts of kindness. That’s weird.
Failure just means that you are trying and you have to try if you’re ever going to succeed.
If you have a dream, go ahead and try it. It’s really not too late and it’s not stupid. You have one precious life. So who cares? Do what you want.
Celebrate my birthday by getting yourself a little treat and watching something that’s so bad-it’s-good.
Thanks for reading. Here’s to another year!