Issue #235: Am I Allowed to Admit I'm Having a Hard Time with Turning 34?

Here come the mid-thirties.

I’ve recorded myself reading the full post, available to paid subscribers, with a little bit of behind-the-scenes. Let me know if you enjoy the audio—considering doing this more for future posts! x

I loved saying that I was thirty. Still arm’s reach from my twenties, the new decade—my thirties—felt sexy and empowering. Within a few months of turning thirty, I stopped drinking alcohol, left my marriage, lived by myself for the first time, and began the incredibly difficult, but exhilarating, task of finding my own center. These changes reignited a sense of possibility; a deep appreciation of life’s twists and turns that felt expansive. And then, quietly, the magic went out.

When I took two weeks off recently, it was because I felt like my center of gravity was so far away from me, I needed time for my soul to catch up to my body. My ankle sprain in December, and the slow recovery I’m still in the midst of, set off a sense of existential dread that enveloped me. I felt easily distracted and sucked into dopaminergic spirals, buying clothes to indulge superficial fantasies of happiness or “wholeness,” and paper over my profound unease around turning thirty-four tomorrow in a body that feels weaker and more fragile than I’m used to. Without cardio, I feel noticeably more fatigued, and recent blood tests revealed that my cholesterol is “concerningly high.” In January, I injured my back from sitting for too long, and the full-body MRI scan I booked in the midst of this panic revealed a growth on my thyroid. My health, which I had always taken for granted, felt suddenly challenged.

I understand that thirty-four is not “old,” but it is jarring to realize that I am nearly as close to fifty as I am to twenty. Even if I get pregnant in the next year (which is unlikely), my pregnancy will be considered “geriatric.” I’ve started, too, to feel bad about my face for the first time. But the thing that scares me more than anything is the realization that: This is what my adulthood looks like.