Updated: Aug. 25, 2020
Originally Published: Aug. 16, 2018
I’ve always been on a quest for understanding, growth, and tranquility. This drive became particularly evident during my first psychology class in high school, where I began to truly listen to myself and the world around me. My desire to comprehend humanity blossomed, and today, we often label this journey as personal development or self-help—a realm typically associated with the later stages of young adulthood. I owe a debt of gratitude to Ms. Hart for igniting this passion in me at just 16.
I immerse myself in profound memoirs and insightful narratives that blend personal experiences with thoughtful education. You can often find me inspired by the works of authors like Nora Johnson, Ava Blake, and Maya Thompson—women who have become my unofficial mentors. Despite having only met one of them, their impact on my life is profound, and they significantly influence my decision not to wait until I’m 40.
These remarkable women often discuss the liberating “I no longer care” mindset that seems to emerge around the age of 40. They describe this milestone as a point where societal expectations fade, largely due to the exhaustion that accumulates over four decades. You start to embrace your true self, imperfections and all, with a passionate purpose that’s impossible to ignore, even on your quietest days.
Your everyday moments—like dry shampoo and a thrift store dress—become symbols of authenticity. Conversations with your children about life’s challenges become as routine as the chaos of Monday mornings. The relationships you cultivate take on deeper meaning, and sisterhood becomes your anchor. You begin to cherish the little things—like bath time and laughter—while letting go of the trivial, such as celebrity gossip.
But here I am, just turning 34, with a lifetime of experiences already under my belt. I’ve graduated from college, earned advanced degrees, started a business, become a mother, and even navigated the complexities of love and marriage. I’ve experienced both financial struggle and security, and I refuse to wait another six years for that elusive magic.
Right now, my bathroom is stocked with four cans of dry shampoo, and I’m wearing a strapless dress from 2015 that no longer fits quite right. Just the other day, while cleaning out our daughter’s lunchbox, she asked me to explain what LGBTQ stands for—a moment that caught me off guard, yet felt so essential. I even took out the recycling yesterday and felt a surge of pride for organizing it correctly—small victories, but they matter.
I cherish the moments spent with dear friends, especially those entering new phases of life like motherhood. I love looking back at memories each day, with TimeHop reminding me of where I’ve been. Music is often my connection to pop culture, primarily through songs featured in my Zumba classes. As I write this from the beach, my makeshift office, I carry the weight of loss, having lost my sister to suicide in 2016—a stark reminder of life’s complexities.
Perhaps I’m ahead of the curve, but I feel I’m grasping the essence of authentic living. It’s not that my beloved mentors were wrong; rather, they’ve illuminated a path for us to pay attention to the present. Personal growth is fleeting without intention, and amidst the chaos of adult life, it’s easy to forget to pause and soak in the sun or have those heartfelt conversations.
So, I’m choosing to be deliberate and intentional. I’m embracing the “f$@% it” mentality while I have the chance—to push boundaries, to defy norms, to live boldly. I’m confronting loneliness, practicing stillness, and rewriting my inner narrative. I’m believing in something greater than myself and pouring out my love unreservedly.
This is what 34 feels like.
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