I turned 27 last week. It feels the same as when I was 26, not that I was expecting it to be any different. When I turned 21, I said it was probably going to be my last “big” birthday celebration until I turn 70 because after 21, the years just seem to blend into each other. I don’t know how I knew that at the time, but as it turns out, I was right. So far.
27 still puts me in the lower end of the 25-30 spectrum but my late 20s are beckoning and so I’ve been thinking about my life. I’m giving myself until 30 to figure out who I am and what I want in life, and I know it’s not like I’m going to stop learning about myself after that, but it’s just this block of time that I’ve consciously set aside to think about me.
Why 30, you ask? At least two people I’ve interviewed say their 20s were when they experimented and understood who they were, and that they are much happier now that they’re in their 30s. A quick search of Penelope Trunk’s blog – which I love – produced several links that suggest the same. (See here and here.) I’m sure there’s more but like I said, it was a quick one.
I think I know where I’m going. I hope I do. Of some aspects, I’m sure; of others, I think I’ve at least figured out a general direction. I have so much to be thankful for, more than I deserve. And the news gets better. According to this, I’m going to get happier. So bring it on.
happy belated birthday, 27 still young.
Thanks!