Me at 35

The things I know to be true at this new age of mine.

Sundaze Book Café is the home of everyday magic, joyful living and conversations likely to be had over a hot drink with a friend in your favourite café, capturing the syrup-slow feel and glow of a Sunday. I’m Michelle, and I’ll be your host today.

Today is my birthday, and this post, a little list of the things that’ve made me at this current age and stage of my life, has become tradition on Sundaze Book Café. What was once a love letter to the twenty-something Substack writers lamenting their fear of ‘doing their twenties’ wrong has become a lovely little way for me to capture my own thoughts and the things that defined another year. After all, I live a quiet little life and it can often feel like nothing much changes. Yet, 1% better every day for 365 days adds up.

Something that’s become funny to me is realising how much people talk about the ‘thirties’. Nine times out of ten, it’s people in their twenties having a little panic. I would know: I spend way too much time at work coaching my younger colleagues through their quarter-life crises and divulging my own age to help them see that 29 is not The End. Now that I’m officially in my mid-thirties, I get what my older friends mean. You care less, but more. You step further into who you have always been.

At 35:

• I have finally normalised not telling anyone anything. Except my fiancé and sister. They get the inner workings of my brain. Sometimes, it is easier to keep things to yourself. I might share weekly personal essays here, but I’m glad to keep 90% of myself private.

• I’ll always lean into how good that ritualistic evening cup of tea makes me feel.

• More than ever, I care more about the things that are important to me, and care less about the things that don’t. It isn’t any deeper than that.

• My friendships are thriving, and I’m reminded that there are always new friends just around the corner. I’ve made so many wonderful new pals this year.

• I am on the cusp of making big decisions about my career’s future.

• Taylor Swift is in my bad books, during this 18th year of my being a Swiftie. Her silence during the ICE raids and everything else going on in the world means I might be a Swiftie, but I am not currently a fan.

• I trust my gut feeling deeply.

• I really love hanging out with myself. (And that’s on properly training the solo date muscle throughout my twenties!)

• Pottering in our house is a bonafide hobby.

• Less is definitely more. Except when it comes to my book, perfume and precious journal collections.

• I’ve re-privatised my life after 17 years in content creation, and I’m finding new reasons every day of why that feels so good.

• I’m glad that I am still as ambitious as ever, just in different ways.

• My (volunteer) role as a Little Free Library means so much to me. I love bringing books to the community for free, and I particularly love seeing how quickly the children’s books are snapped up!

• I feel more connected to myself, my heritage, my inner workings, than ever before.

• I’m still training at the gym, and I’m still attending Reformer Pilates. I run now, as well.

• I’m having so much fun planning our wedding with my fiancé. We’re happily engaged now, and it’s been lovely to discover wedding-planning isn’t as stressful as everybody told us it’d be.

• I finally feel like I don’t need to prove myself to anybody, or over-explain myself. (That might’ve been evident over the slight tilt in my personal essays lately.)

At 35, I feel like I’m stepping closer to who I am and always have been. My days are quieter and softer and gentler, and they’re worlds apart from the me in my twenties. I’m glad about that, yet thankful for who I was then, too. This year, I have been and will be balancing my personal time between a day job that I love, a side hustle with my sister that I cherish, my studies that I am enthralled by, my Little Free Library that I voluntarily maintain, our wedding that I am unbelievably excited for, and my novel that I am a little scared of.

Cheers, to another year of me.