Thirty-Five

I've been 35 now for nearly 3 days and sadly, some of the charm is beginning to wear off. After a whirlwind birthday weekend floating through the sky at sunset in a hot air balloon, sipping sweet champagne after a hot oil massage, lounging in a bubble-filled jacuzzi tub, eating prime rib for dinner - and breakfast, I thought - Yes! - THIS is what 35 is supposed to be - Luxurious, luscious, liberating, alive!

And then I found a white hair on my head. Reality set in: I am thirty-five. I am now closer to 40 than to 30. I'm practically middle-aged! After 35, childbearing is so dangerous that I'll need to poke my baby with amnio needles; at 35, I have to go get my first mammogram; at 35, we're supposed to start getting regular colonoscopies for cryin' out loud! F**k.

35 is adult stuff. But wasn't that what I loved about it? Being able to afford my own home, my own boat, my pedicures and my leisure? Being able to enjoy lifelong friendships, career success, and thrive in my ability to go after what I want? I guess that's the thing with 35. We are really adults now. And with adulthood comes the Good, and the Scary.

Here's the funny part: I don't think I would trade the Scary of 35 for the Insecurity of 25. I wouldn't trade the white hairs, or the mammograms or the colonoscopies or the fear that I won't be able to bear children; for with all of that also comes an innate inner strength, a calm loving heart, deepened wisdom, and a peace of mind that I am so much enjoying. I like this 35-year-old me. No, life isn't exactly as I thought it would be, but in all of the ways that matter, it is better than I realized was possible. What a blessing.

Goodnight, Friends. Rock on.
Carin