The so-called failure of my birthday was actually a failure of my willingness to grow up and let go of my youth. The crux of my discontent hinged on not getting what I wanted when I wanted it. Is that fundamentally wrong for someone turning 35?
Now that I’ve been 35 for over a week now, it’s not so bad. 30 was the official passageway into responsible adulthood and 35 is the drop-dead confirmation of it. I need this kick in the pants.
I must conserve my energy for important things because age is slowly extracting its toll from me. My priority is family and work and health and each one of those require varying levels of physical, mental and emotional gratuity. Gone are the days of needless wasting and burning of my attention/awareness on foolish, dead end or unworthy pursuits (I believe many — including myself at times — are guilty of this mistake).
35 also offers wisdom in a still young body — not bad. The trick is to leverage both of those assets into wealth. I’ve got enough smarts (or should I say I’ve learned the hard way enough times!) to know that I MUST work harder and smarter than ever before — not just one or the other like people say.
Finally, 35 is a good place to fully accept mortality. There’s nothing wrong with that. When you accept mortality you naturally turn your attention to your legacy, which dramatically shifts the perspective of your life from the petty to the important. Everything I do, I think about how it could affect the future (including long after I’m gone), what people will think of my (specially my children) and more immediately — what doors it might open or close later in my own life.
35 — the age of full mature adulthood.