A friend posted this Huffington Post article on Facebook earlier this week. I read it and found myself tearing up, not because I’ve experienced everything the author has at age 33, but because it made me think through my own Staircase Landing.
At 33 you think back to the craziness of your 20s and remember the late nights that ended sleeping in a bed with your best friend, waking up, showering, and throwing on another coat of mascara. (How did we not ever use eye makeup remover?)
Texting a picture of beets to a friend who although you haven’t seen each other in years responds that she’s trying to take a picture of a guy you had a huge crush on 8 years ago that she ran into at a conference. Because that’s what you do.
You send your parents pictures of monkeys made out of flowers to convince them to come visit for the flower show next year. They respond hesitantly, but only because it could be cold.
If you’re lucky, less than 100% of the people who you manage are older than you. If you’re really lucky, those who are, don’t act offended that they’re older than you are, and occasionally do what you ask them to do.
You’re happy when someone tells you that you can be really scary when you’re mad in the workplace.
You hate it when others at the office ask what you’re doing that weekend because they want to live vicariously through you, only to realize you might actually have a less interesting weekend than they do.
You have had multiple big reunions. Each making you feel both accomplished and sad at the same time.
You feel ashamed for constantly having dishes in your sink, laundry on the drying rack, and boxes from online shopping just inside your door. And more ashamed that you just admitted to it on your blog. To. The. World.
You realize people you judged at other points in your life are really fabulous. And often people you probably have much more in common with now.
You stop focusing so much on what people think of you, and think about what makes you happy.
People who are overly concerned with others opinions start to becoming extremely annoying and uninteresting.
Heartbreaks of your past become opportunities to find who you really are. And a chance to realize what you really want for your future.
You’re just happy your young enough to be young, and old enough to be old.
What’s your “33” thing?
What horrible thing did you to your body in your 20s?
Most recent hilarious exchange with a friend via text?