Everything Is As It Should Be

Posted by Rachael Wright at 00:51 on 3 Aug 2010

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When I moved into my apartment in May, this magnet was on the fridge and it bothered me because I didn’t have a singular answer…



This is what I came up with:

23 – because I’m nearly 30 and I feel like I should be doing more grown-up things, like wedding-planning/mortgage-applying/baby-having (although the thought of doing any of this has me frantically looking for the nearest exit/cliff to jump off)

45 – because I’ve packed quite a lot in so far

12 – because my humour is often similar to that of a pre-pubescent boy

78 – because I put my back out turning over in bed a couple of weeks ago and my knees aren’t what they used to be

My actual age is 29.  And for the last few months of being 29, it’s felt alien to me because that’s the age proper adults are. I’ve been wrestling with the thought that maybe I should be doing everything that I'm not doing at this point in my life. 

And therein lies my mistake – the word ‘should’.

As women, we tend to put deadlines on ourselves governed by the number of years we’ve existed, and we revel in the futile torture of comparing ourselves to others - usually unfavourably.  But we’re all different, which is exactly what I love about the Marie Claire bloggers – you get a slice of life from a cross section of women at different stages in their lives, living in different parts of the world, with different qualities, experiences and neuroses.

My 20s have been one hot mess. The best of times and the worst of times.  And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ve laughed, cried, loved, fought, made questionable decisions, dealt with consequences, taken risks, seen the world, made huge changes and pulled the ‘eek’ face while hoping for the best on numerous occasions...  In short, I’ve lived.

We have it pummelled into us that ageing is a curse, something to be avoided.  The truth is, aging is a privilege.  In 2000, my friend Heena died having lived with cancer on and off for six years.  She was 21.  I make a point of living my life to the fullest on her behalf, because she wasn’t given that opportunity.

Living in New York there isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t think ‘I’m so lucky’, or ‘I love this city’.  It’s no better or worse than any other place and the grass isn’t any greener – I’m just happy here.  I appreciate each day, it keeps me awake and inspired and something unexpected seems to happen on a weekly basis, which I love.

So how about we stop with the age-defined deadlines and birthday dread - they're nothing but a depressing waste of time and we're as young as we're ever going to be.

If I didn’t know how old I was, I don’t think it would matter.  But I’m 29.  And that’s fine by me because I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be right now.

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