Turning 29

I’m on the cusp of turning twenty-nine (in seven weeks to be precise) and this year my age is really beginning to freak me out.

Now I know that I am far from ‘old’ in terms of what being ‘old’ constitutes, and calling myself as such would merit a good old slapping across the face with a wet fish. I know I’m still young-ish. Still (just!) in my twenties, with the majority of my life - hopefully - before me, rather than behind me. I know I’m that age that people who are a little bit older look back and would love to be again. The small, meaningless things you start to stress about as you near your thirties will seem insignificant once I’m older; I’m sure of that. Those laughter lines under my eyes will be replaced, one day, with full-blown wrinkles. My body, that I have a love-hate relationship with and unfortunately spend most of the time wishing were different, will one day lose its battle against gravity and I’ll be worrying more about my sagging chestal-area than my large boot-ay. They’ll be more things, ‘bigger’ things to think about. Mortgage, maybe kids, and all those other responsibilities that come with being a true, bona fide adulty-adult.

I’ve painted a rather dreary image of aging, but we know it’s not all negative. I know my fear of hitting my thirties is for the most part based on an overactive imagination, but I do believe society doesn’t help us by making us believe that we are sort of supposed to stay youthful forever.

I think one of my problems is that I am so enjoying my twenties that I’m worried that life can never be this good again. Fortunately some people have reassured me that their thirties have been the best era of their lives. Things like learning to love and accept yourself for who you are become easier, apparently, as do worrying about what others think and our desire to people-please. I’d imagine with increased maturity and wisdom also come the ability to negotiate life’s challenges, more inner-resources to fall back on, and perhaps a better attitude to life in general.

So why the trepidation over crossing that threshold into the next significant decade of my life? As I said earlier, I think society and the media do us no favours. We’ve not even got rid of all our acne before we are being bombarded by adverts for wrinkle creams which we are told we must start to use in our twenties/early thirties otherwise we’ll start to wrinkle prematurely and heaven knows we are not allowed to have wrinkles. We are a society who tries to desperately to ward off age at every corner. We dye out the grey hair, pump our faces full of chemicals, anything to look younger than our natural age. We fight it constantly. We try to defy getting older.

I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing. It’s great that older people are living longer now, are healthier and more able to do things that they weren’t able to do in generations previously. It’s great that a ninety-year old woman decides to go and get her first bachelor’s degree, or that a seventy-five year old man decides to remarry, and that they try to live every day to its fullest despite their age and the difficulties that come with it. That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about my generation and my own anxieties about reaching the next stage of adulthood.

I think that one of the reasons we are afraid to turn thirty is to reach that age without any physical evidence that our twenties have been a success. By physical evidence I mean things like degree certificates, engagement and wedding rings, a house or a baby. This is what many people expect you to come out of your twenties with. If you start your thirties without any of these things, people might silently wonder what’s gone wrong. But what if, instead of judging someone’s success by these hallmarks, we judged it by how much they have grown as a person through their twenties?

The person who chooses not to settle down in their twenties may have learned so many invaluable lessons about themselves and life in general. The person (as is my case) who isn’t married (although we are PACSed which not many people outside of the francophone population will understand) may be asked rather consistently when they are planning to get married, as for many people this seems like an important step to take in your relationship, especially if you are nearing thirty and have not yet walked down the aisle. What if instead of obsessing over when someone plans to get married and used that as a marker to judge the state of their relationship, we actually left it up to the individual person to decide what marriage/ being in a relationship/living together means to them, and judged the ‘success’ of their relationship more on what they have have learned about love and life through being together, how they have surmounted challenges and how they are making a difference around them as individuals and as a couple? What if we just celebrated love as it is, pure and simple, without having to put legal stamps and names on it, because love is a gift, true love is rare, and it makes life so much more beautiful?

So perhaps part of the ‘fear’ of moving into our thirties is this fear of being seen as having achieved less than we should have, because most of our evidence for being successful isn’t paper-based, worn on our finger or the product of our loins.

I am very proud of what I have achieved in my twenties, and I still have another year, a tenth of a decade to finish up with a bang! It’s not all been plain sailing by any means, but here are some of the things that my twenties have brought me:

1. A wonderful partner. I know we’re not all lucky enough to find true love. I am so grateful to have a man who is willing to grow beside me every day; someone who loves me for just who I am.

2. I have begun to and am continuing to find my own kind of faith after leaving toxic religion behind. You can read more about my past religious experience here: http://nicolacasey.wixsite.com/mymusicandmusings/single-post/2017/12/27/How-a-Christian-Cult-Stole-my-Childhood-and-so-much-more

3. I lived six years in a foreign country all on my own (well, for the first few years before I met Max anyway!) Also improved my French to fluency-standard.

4. I got my BA in English Language and Literature (from France)

5. I discovered my gift for music and have been cultivating it ever since.

6. I may not be finished my novel yet but I am still working on it. Perhaps it will be done by the time I am 30!

7. I have made a lot of progress in my battle with mental illness/ OCD. Not every day is a walk in the park, but somehow by accepting how I am, being kinder to myself and digging deep to understand my triggers, I am more than just getting by!

8. I have discovered a new hobby in painting.

9. We are cultivating a life for ourselves in a country that is neither of ours but which feels oddly like home.

10. My acne has improved. So. Much. It’s not 100% there yet but an end is in sight!

11. I am more able to say ‘no’ when I don’t want to say ‘yes’, and trying harder not to people-please. This is still a work in progress but I am leaps and bounds from where I was ten years ago.

And there you have it. Here’s to the twenty-ninth year of my life, and getting older.