Does anyone else love those stories of ‘late in life’ successes? You know, the ole ‘you’re never too young to get started’ adage? I have been known to POUR over articles that tell me that Julia Child was 49 when she changed the cooking game, that Ellen started her talk show at 45, that a woman recently gave birth to a healthy baby at 72. If there lives have only JUST hit these milestones, goals and aspirations – then I’m sure it’s fine that I haven’t yet achieved x, y and z. And then it kind of dawned on me. As tolerant and accepting and open minded as I try to be – not wanting to buy into any prejudice or any ‘-isms’, I am a full blown agist*.

But this agism only really applies to myself. Something I think we are all guilty of, applying a unique set of standards and criteria to ourselves, while allowing fluidity and exceptions to our loved ones.

My friend gets their first promotion at 41? Go girl, you’re killing it. My mum launches a business at 60? Epic, power to ya! My mate gets married at 50? YAS, celebrate that love.

But when I reflect on my upcoming 31^st rotation round the sun? No dice. I’m overwhelmed by thoughts of ‘but this isn’t what 31 was meant to look like’, ‘I should be/have x, y or z at this point!’ and ‘now I can NEVER make the 30 under 30 list!’ (the last one was a legit epiphany that struck me a few weeks back. Tragic, I know). I called my partner saying ‘I wish I was turning 27 on Friday. It would just feel so good to be where I am right now, but still have 4 years to get to this birthday’.

So, because writing is therapy, I wanted to explore this concept of agism. Why we glorify youth and highlight achievements/accomplishments when they take place in certain decades versus a few years later. Why do we still treat life a little like a race, with certain ‘check in’ points and boxes to tick and places to ‘arrive at’? Everyone’s life is different – everyone has certain areas in which they are flying, and others that resemble a little more of a ‘crash zone’. Someone might be killing it at work, and struggling as a mama at home. ‘World’s best partner’ might be a hot mess when the doors close and they’re alone with their own thoughts. You might be on track to buy your first house at 52. Or planning an overseas holiday for 81. Lives aren’t made to be ‘cookie cutter’ in their uniformity. They’re more like those last minute batch cookies that you whip up and they grown inconsistently across the tray, no two alike, but all effing delicious.

As life often is when you keep an eye out for signs, it’s synchronicity can point you towards a lesson or learning that you need to wise up on. Case in point this week where, after having already penned the majority of this rambly little birthday article, I discovered the ‘Be-Bolder’ blog. It’s creators, in their mid thirties (do you see a trend here of 30 plus age crises), were so sick of the negative conversations and nuances around aging that they wanted to do a photo/profile project to capture what aging COULD look like. The result is an inspiring amalgamation of older people who refine getter ‘older’ as less limiting and more effing empowering.

So as I pour over stories of these incredible humans, whose age is but just a number, on the eve of my 31^st birthday, I’m reminded that age is just a number and I hope (God willing) that I’m blessed with many more numbers to come.

Blessings and SO many fucking candles to blow out x