Diaries of a Twenty Something: Getting Older

I turn twenty-eight next week. Not yet thirty, flirty, and thriving; not quite twenty, wild, and free. It feels a bit like the in-between. A part of me wants to soak in the ordinariness of it all, lean into the it is what it is mentality. Spending a cozy night at home, rewatching one of my favorite movies, and drinking good wine — what’s wrong with that? Nothing, is the answer, and I was settled in that plan up until an hour ago when I went to my dermatologist’s office.

We were shooting the shit, talking about a whole lot of nothing, when she noticed my birthday was coming up next week. I said something like, “oh, you know, it’s an unimportant birthday. I’m turning twenty-eight.” She paused for a second, nodding, and then said, “I get it and I’ll add, from someone twice your age, every year we get to be here is something to celebrate.” She squeezed my shoulder and continued, “there are no unimportant birthdays.”

It hit me hard. She is so right — there are no unimportant birthdays. Every year we get to experience all the complicated, beautiful messiness that comes with being human is something to celebrate.

It doesn’t mean I need to scramble to throw myself some over-the-top party next week but it does mean that I can bring more intentionality into what I do. It means I can take my birthday seriously and have fun looking back at the twenty seven amazing years behind me. It means I can look forward to this upcoming year of unknown adventure.

The twenties are an interesting decade. As I near the end of them, I find myself wanting to breeze past until I get to my next milestone. But I was reminded today that growing up is something to enjoy at every stage, not just at the pivotal moments. So, cheers to twenty-eight, to the in-between, to getting older.