Having recently turned 35, I’ve had a solid 250 days to reflect on the peculiarities of being this age. Let me tell you: 35 is undeniably the strangest age I’ve encountered.
Maternal Musings
Sometimes I think that if it weren’t for the physical reminders, I might not believe I was ever a mother to three little girls. I hold those memories dear, yet they feel like scenes from a distant film—vivid but far removed. I once believed I would instinctively know when my family was complete. After our second daughter arrived, it felt like she was just another character in a play still unfolding. And then our third daughter came along—a delightful surprise with a shock of dark hair—but that feeling of completion? Still absent.
These fleeting moments of doubt flutter in like a wayward butterfly, making me question the life blueprint I created in my early 20s. They stir up fears about the future, particularly during family gatherings when I hope to have my daughters and their families surrounding me at Thanksgiving.
Discussing fertility at 35 feels like being a child, eyes wide, watching the ice cream truck roll by. The melody lures me, yet I find myself hesitating, unsure if I really want the treat. I know all too well how sweet it can be, but the thought of missing out on that experience again is daunting. With three pregnancies behind me, I’m simultaneously reassured and apprehensive about the future. Could I have another healthy child? Sure, but I’d be labeled as having a “geriatric pregnancy.” Still, my heart is content with where I am now—most days, anyway.
Physical Acceptance
Flashback to high school: I remember preparing for a Spring Break trip to Naples, Florida, sweating it out with tae-bo, desperate for that sculpted physique. The results? Disappointing. Looking back at those photos, I see a fit young woman, and if I had that same body now, I’d probably never wear anything but crop tops and underwear.
Fast forward to age 35, and my body has undoubtedly changed. The marks of motherhood are my new reality—stretch marks and skin that has lost its elasticity are now part of my story. It’s a time of acceptance, but also a push to get the rest of me in shape, especially as I stare down the impending milestone of 40.
Social Realities
The most bizarre aspect of being 35? The world sees me as 35. In my mind, I’m still that sprightly 26-year-old. I can still chat with the 20-somethings about the latest trends or pop culture. But when I attempt to make a reference to “Saved by the Bell,” I’m met with blank stares.
It’s a strange disconnect. They’re out partying and I’m settling down with a good book by 11 p.m. I have laugh lines and they still bask in the sun without a care! The generational gap feels wider than ever, especially when they don’t know about the iconic 90210—how can we bond when they don’t understand the significance of Kelly and Brenda’s prom dress debacle?
Professional Landscape
In the workplace, I find myself navigating the jungle of career expectations. I love storytelling and creativity, but the corporate world often feels like a struggle. At 35, I’m in this awkward space: not quite a newbie, yet not a seasoned veteran either. I want to foster collaboration, yet the old-school hierarchy often stifles that.
While I appreciate the push for work-life balance, corporate environments lag behind. I wrestle daily with asserting my ideas while also respecting seniority, leading to a professional limbo that’s both frustrating and strange.
Mental Gymnastics
Being in your mid-30s is a paradox of time. I feel like I have all the time in the world yet none at all. If I compare myself to Beyoncé, it’s a grim outlook—she achieved greatness at 26. But then I think of Jane Lynch, who didn’t hit her stride until her 40s. There’s a glimmer of hope there!
This tug-of-war with time is exhausting. Have I missed my shot at greatness? Or is it still ahead? It’s a mental maze that leaves me pondering my past choices while trying to grasp future opportunities.
In essence, being 35 has been a whirlwind of bizarre experiences—wonderful, yet undeniably strange. As I continue navigating this age, I can’t help but feel a hint of nostalgia for my 20s while simultaneously looking forward to what lies ahead.
As the band Jimmy Eat World so aptly put it:
“It just takes some time,
Little girl, you’re in the middle of the ride,
Everything, everything will be just fine,
Everything, everything will be all right.”