I turned 35 last month. I don't have an issue with ageing but honestly, sometimes the thought of being 35 sneaks up and smacks me on the head, leaving me reeling: Holy shit, I'm thirty-fucking-five.
I didn't expect my life to be like this at 35. Again and again: I didn't expect life to be like this at 35.
I said to my friends that this is going to be my year. (Actually, I think I said I'm going to make 35 my bitch but that isn't very ladylike. But hey, I've already said shit and fuck, and really, the SS Ladylike sailed a long time ago.) Things feel different. I feel more comfortable in who I am, the most confident I've ever felt. I think that it's due, in part, to age and experience, but also to the best group of friends I could ever have hoped for.
My friend's birthday is the day before mine so we had a girls' night with some friends and I realise that that group of women is pretty much all I need: my best friend who I've known since high school (and whose son started high school this month, holy shit, we are thirty-fucking-five), another I worked with a few years ago, two I worked with at my old job, and another who I met through a mutual friend. There's no mean girls bullshit, no envy or jealousy, no drama. Just support and tonnes of laughter. Those girls, plus a few others, and I'm set.
My signature has changed recently. It used to be an A, followed by my eight-letter surname (which ends in -dell, and if I didn't pay attention, I would usually add an extra L, making it look like I don't know how to spell my own damn name), but now my signature is dominated by a larger, more extravagant A, followed by just a bit of a squiggle to represent my surname. I'm no graphology expert, but I like to think that it's symbolic of becoming more confident in myself.
There are new possibilities just out of reach. So close, but I have to be patient. My work is done, I have to trust that what is supposed to happen, will happen. In the meantime, I have a renewed interest in the novel I wrote last year (hello, second draft!) and my goal this year is whip it into shape and send it off to agents and publishers - something that a few years ago, was only a pipe dream. Now, with this newly found confidence, is a definite plan.
So, 2015. Not too bad so far. A definite improvement on the second half of 2014. Thirty-five, you're not too bad either. But just to remind myself that just because I'm 35, doesn't mean I have to act like it, next weekend I'm accompanying one of the aforementioned girlfriends to a One Direction concert. Because, yolo.