On Turning 35

I was 10 years old and had to finish a project for school that required me to interview my parents.

"How old are you?" I asked my Mom.

"I'm 35 years old."

I did the quick math; she'd had me at age 25. She'd had all of her children before she turned 30. She'd already been married for 14 years. I figured, I will probably wait a while longer and get married when I was 22, after college, have kids in my 20s, and be the President of something before I was 30. It seemed entirely feasible. My Dad had his own business, Des Jardins Advertising. If I did my homework and got good grades, I could do the same.

Fast forward to 1992: I'm celebrating my birthday in NYC, where I'm a college intern. I'm having dinner at my friend's parents' house. They've been so good to show me around and introduce me to people in publishing who may hire me when I graduate from school. I've arranged my credits so that I can graduate early and get a jump on the other candidates. I love how these people have dinner parties and go see Broadway shows. I know that people in publishing don't make much money, but the people I've met seem to do just fine. If all goes right, I'll be in the job market when I'm 21. I plan to study for grad school, too, just in case I need more options. I don't know why I'm in such a hurry. It just seems that the quicker I start, the quicker I can get to a comfortable place. The quicker I can have dinner parties and see Broadway shows.

They laugh when I say that if I ever had an affair with someone my Dad's age it would be Harrison Ford. It's funny when young people pretend to seem older. I don't think I'm pretending.

Fast forward to 1997; I'm 25 years old. I've worked at some impressive companies, and I'm not impressed. It's hard doing things that are unique. My goal becomes to earn enough money to afford renting my own one- bedroom apartment and to buy clothes in-season. I have drinks with a friend who cries because she's just turned 29.

"I have no man in my life," she says.

"You have plenty of time," I tell her.

"No I don't," she says. "Even if I met The One today, we'd need a mimimun of a year to date before he pops the question, a year before we can even get a venue if we get married out here, then he'll want to wait at least two years before we have kids. I may not have them all before I'm 35."

I feel relieved: I have time, even if I don't know what to do with it.

Fast forward to 1999: I've moved from New York to the Bay Area. I'm single with nobody in my life threatening to change that. The thought of getting married before 30 strikes me as unrealistic; I haven't "done" anything yet. I do have my own apartment, so now I want Caphalon. My twin sister just got married, and that's what she wanted, so I think I do too.

I work at an Internet start-up with an open-floorplan mentality. I sit next to the VPs of Marketing and Business Development. The 35-year-old VP has an MBA and isn't married. "Don't worry," she says, referring to my marriage prospects, "you have time. It will happen for you in two years." I wonder how she knows this and think her assurances are unnecessary. Of course I'll meet someone, but in the meantime there's stuff that I need to do, promotions and such that need to happen. I need to visit a few more countries and publish a book. I want to buy my own dishes. Still, I should consider dating someone seriously, so I have options.

The 47-year-old VP says that marriage is overrated. She was married once, but now she lives with a domestic partner. She tells me I'm so serious--"27 going on 47." And she feels like she's 47 going on 27. I wonder why.

"You just seem so much older," she says to me. I think she's keeping me from my work.

Fast forward to 2002: The start-up where I worked has gone under. I go from saving for a house to funding my "sabbatical" from work. I go to Africa, return to San Francisco, and "consult."  I've broken up with my boyfriend and am fairly pissed that he's the second thing to take me off-schedule. I'm not ready to be married, and I need a break from working, but I thought I would have more options.

Fast forward to two days ago: My business partner wishes me Happy Birthday.

"What are you going to do?" she says. I feel compelled to say something. I find it ironic that my birthday has fallen on a Saturday. I used to love when that happened; I could invite more people, make the day more of an event. This year I've called no one. Fortunately my husband has taken care of all of that stuff and invited a few people out to dinner. All I need to do is show up.

"Not much," I tell her. "I have a ton of work to do."

"You're what, now, 35?"

"Yeah."

"Wow, that sounds so grown up," she jokes. I silently agree.

"I thought I would have more to show for it," I say. 

"You started a company!" she reminds me.

"That's true, I guess." Still, I thought 35 would feel different.

Fast forward to today: I'm on a plane, heading to a conference in Israel. I'm feeling a little punk. I had a few glasses of wine last night for my birthday dinner and just want to hydrate. I've drafted my sleeping schedule for the 17-hour journey three times. I don't just bounce back like I used to: I have to plan for stuff like sleep. Last night one of my friends asked me to remind her how old I was. I told her.

"Huh," she said. "Why did I think you were a lot younger than me?" She's in her mid 30s. I'm not younger than everyone anymore. I'm not precocious for my age anymore. I'm just like everyone else.

I'm sitting next to an orthodontist in First Class. He tells me he sees 150 patients--a day. I ask him how he does that. He tells me he has 20 people and three offices. And he used to see more patients, but he decided to spend more time with his family. He also runs two other businesses, not small ones. He's been married for 20 years, has several teenaged kids, and he is 45. I do the math--because that's what I do.

"But...how...How do you find the time to do it all?" I ask him.

"I just have dumb luck I guess," he says.

I tell him I celebrated my 35th birthday last night.

"Wow," he said, "you don't look 35. You don't even look 25."

I try to take the compliment.

Comments

[Jay]

So the 16th? I'll add you to my calendar of blogger birthdays. Happy belated!

From 46 you still seem pretty young. Especially a 46 in which I never *really* got a career rolling viably, and in which I married as I approached and had a first kid after I passed 43, courtesy of meeting a fellow blogger via blogging, before it became more common.

[jen]

Happy birthday for the other day. Age is relative I think. Some people who are younger than me seem older, and vice versa.

[GoingLikeSixty]

Hi,
Until the last sentence, I thought this was a birthday reminiscence. Now I don't know, but I feel morose.

[Joy]

Oh boy, do I love this. This is such an accurate account of you as an adult sweetie. You really could have gone back even further. I don't remember when you didn't 'have a plan' for yourself. Yes, you look like 25, but you've lived like 55. What you've crammed into those 35 years is astounding to me; but it might be NOTHING compared to what you've got planned for the next 35....and I'll just keep asking questions. I don't see that changing anytime soon either. ~Mom -xo-

[BroJoe]

Don't worry, in a scant 4 years it will be your turn to forget to wish one of your siblings a happy 35th birthday like I did this past weekend. Sorry I forgot. Happy birthday. If it makes up for it, I was punished by Cook County yesterday when they forced me to sit through jury duty.

[Susanne]

Happy belated birthday!

It's weird isn't it, how the feeling of being old or not depends? I'll be turning 40 next month and when I realized that, it gave me pause.

And my life now is so totally different from what I ever imagined. I never knew one could live like I do. Fortunately my life is much better than I thought it would be. Even though I achieved none of my lofty goals.

(I have given up goal-setting for the year. It is a little scary but I try trusting myself to achieve things anyway.)

[Paula]

I turned 35 in February, and I've been really struggling with it, which has actually surprised me. I feel that I'm constantly reminding myself, "Remember, you're a grown-up!"--This despite the fact that I've been married for 12 years and am the mom of 3 boys...The other day a guy (probably in his early 20s) nearly laughed in my face when I asked him if he'd allow me to enter a casino with my husband (who did get ID'd) because I hadn't brought my driver's license. "I'm pretty sure you're over 21," he said like he thought I was definitely overrating my "youthful" appearance.

I had an hour's drive home tonight all to myself (silence is truly a gift!), and I found myself mulling over what it means to be 35. When I got home, I just started googling "psychology of thirties" and stumbled upon your blog. What serendipity! 1) Reading your blog really validated the feelings I'm having about where I should be right now and what defines "old" or "young." 2) Bordering on the creepy, the picture of you reminds me so much of myself that it kind of freaked me out--same hair, same glasses (which of course I didn't have to wear until I turned 35), same facial features. I'm not sure what that means, but I can't help but wonder if fate's involved somehow...

Anyway, thank you for sharing your apprehensions and feelings with people you don't even know--you just never know when your experiences and thoughts are going to resonate with someone.

[Social Citizen]

Great post! I really enjoyed reading it.

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