I am 35.
I don't know if that really qualifies as a confession. Or if that's what I really mean to confess.
Maybe what I should have written is Confession: I am 35 and I'm not married and I don't have kids and I'm not a publisher and I don't own a big house or a car and I'm not where I always thought I would be at 35.
Happy birthday Ketie Devine. This is beautiful!
I’m 35, nearly 36 and all that you have said resonates with me. In the last few days I’ve been crying myself back to sleep in the middle of the night because of all these little broken bits of my heart. My biggest fear is that I will never leave footprints on someone’s heart…sometimes I wonder how I got to this age so self aware yet still somehow believing THAT white Pickett fence life will never be mine. I travelled the world solo for over 2 years, I’ve changed careers to become a teacher, I’ve bought property, am a godmother to 2 beautiful girls, started an intense yoga practice, but wishing for someone to hold my hand when that dark night of the soul comes…stays with me and so far that person hasn’t manifested. So I try to hold my own hand but you know what? I’m tired! And don’t get me started on the ‘I’m not worthy thing’. I suspect no one looks after me because I won’t let myself be vulnerable enough. Crossroads much?
Thankyou for being you and being brave enough to say what I can barely admit to myself out of fear of sounding weak