I’ve come to an age where when people ask me how old I am, I pause. I often honestly have to think to remember. My impulse response is to say 26 because that is about how old I feel (though without the 20s angst). Over the years my concept of age has definitely changed. I remember as a teenager how 26 seemed so old! Now it seems quite the opposite. It seems nubile. And while 26 used to seem old, now I know young and dynamic forty, fifty, and up year olds.
I was recently consoling a relative who was about to join the 30s club. In verbalising what my 30s have meant to me, I realised even more for myself how great they have been. While there have definitely been some periods of struggle, in general my 30s have been a period of being more grounded, clearer on who I am and what I want, and a period of greater general calm within myself.
For all my childhood, my grandmother laid claim to 39 years old-not a day older. While she was mostly joking, there was also a part of her that didn’t allow herself to lay full claim, with pride, to how far she had come – to lay full claim to her achievements and growth that had come with her years. So I am going to try a different tact. I will claim my years with pride…I am 38 years old today. Woo-hoo!
However, the real test, I suppose, will be in two years. Will I claim my age still once I cross the 39 line myself? Only time will tell:)