31.

On turning 31.

Jan 26, 2024

On New Years Eve, I had plans for a quiet night, surrounded by Christmas scented candles and a date with a store-bought lasagna (and my boyfriend Tim). I had visions of vision-boarding, journaling, and listening to music to sage to, most likely Enya, or the I Will Survive cover by Cake. I wanted to bring in the New Year feeling inspired and relaxed, so I figured doing a tidy up of the apartment would be appropriate. It was a humid night, and my dehumidifier was alerting me that it was full. Now, this is where things took a wild turn. Well, not really wild, I emptied my dehumidifier (so thrilling), but I hit my head on the edge of an opened cupboard door on my way up. I immediately fell to the ground, the shock and the pain consuming me. I was sobbing profusely, my head was throbbing, my body sweating and feverish. What followed was a CT scan (I’m fine), a bump and cut on my head, and an ongoing migraine for about a week. I had a concussion, and it forced me to slow down in the first week of January, instead of running at full-speed into 2024. Funnily enough, the worst part of the experience wasn’t the migraines, but the countless stories Tim would share about professional footy players getting concussions.

I had turned 31 on Christmas Day, but I had been so busy that I didn’t have much time to reflect on the year that had been. The month of December was a challenging and emotional month for me, for a myriad of reasons, and I hadn’t really processed my feelings, or found a healthy way though them. Knocking my head literally knocked some sense into me. I didn’t have much capacity for anything more than taking care of my basic needs. I also tried to limit my screen time, and out of pure boredom, started flicking through a book about how to read tarot cards. If anyone wants a reading from a girl who learned everything she knows amid having a concussion, hit me up. My friend

Alyssa ஆனைமுகன்

joked that the bump unlocked my gifts, my third eye, if you will. What I think it also did was it allowed me to focus on myself without guilt, which is something that I struggle with. I finally feel like I’m energetically moving into the New Year, and have been itching to document my latest thoughts and reflections around turning 31, and all that I hope for the year to come.

For the most part, I don’t really care about being 31. Does anyone? I was going to say that no one writes songs about being 31, but a quick Google search informed me of multiple tracks about being 31, all with themes of time passing one buy, and forgotten dreams. I know a lot of people enter a period of doom and existential crisis when they approach this age, but I’m always in that mental space, so I feel right at home. No, but really, I’ve realised that there’s no point worrying about the number, because every year that passes, leaves me feeling the same, and maybe even a little happier and wiser. There’s a certain kind of freedom when you exceed the age you were once afraid of. On the other side of fear, is liberation and freedom: a place where you can have fun, and let go of debilitating expectations. I should also add that my bathroom has warm lighting so any textural changes to my skin have gone blissfully undetected.

I never thought about my 30s growing up, or had ideas about what they would look like, because most of the media I consumed were of people in their 20s. I’m almost the same age as Carrie Bradshaw in season 1 of Sex and the City, I’m Rachel Green season 8 of Friends, and I’m pretty sure I’m closer to the age of the parents in Gossip Girl, than I am to Serena or Blair. I always wanted to be cast in a Disney production like Lizzie McGuire, or Camp Rock, and I’m only now realising that I wouldn’t be cast as the lead, but as the parent who was holding them back from their dreams of superstardom, or getting upset when my daughter won’t let me take her shopping for her first bra.

Thankfully, there’s New Girl, which is about a bunch of 30-somethings living in a loft together. I relate most to Jess when she gets a job at the casserole place, and makes friends with her young neighbours, and lets them think she made up jokes she stole from old TV shows (I like to tell my younger co-workers that I wrote Sk8r Boi). It is kind of nice to still be figuring things out, and allowing myself to approach my life with curiosity and openness.

This past year entailed watching lots of films, going to lots of shows, reading everything by David Sedaris, and drinking lots of smoothies. I celebrated 10 years with the love of my life, I navigated grief after losing my Nanna and Buddy, and I missed out on getting tickets for The Eras Tour (I hate you Ticketek).

I had to navigate some feelings around being misunderstood, and dealing with pretentious art snobs. I learned that everyone is navigating the world projecting their own stuff onto others, and it is up to us to decide what is ours to take on. I’ve wasted a lot of time carrying burdens that weren’t mine to carry, and feeling like someone not seeing my worth was a reflection of me. I’ve learned that I can’t search the world for evidence that I’m not worthy or loved. Having an unshakable core sense of self is worth more than gold, and maybe even tickets to The Eras Tour (just kidding, as if).

I also spent a lot of time thinking and talking about when life gives you new data points, one must shift their perspective and embrace the reality of the situation. I get really annoyed at others when there’s new information which should encourage a shift in their beliefs, but they remain rigid in their views. It can be scary to shift our worldview or opinion on something, but being open and curious is an essential part of growth, and living a fulfilling and peaceful life.

I ended the year with a realisation that I probably always had a superficial understanding of, but I really began to feel it in my bones: it was me learning to accept people for where they are, not where I wished them to be. I’ve realised there’s pain in the resistance: resisting what is, for the longing of what could be. I like to help people, and find solutions to problems. I’ll use any resources, time or knowledge I have to help someone. It is still sinking in to me that someone needs to want my help, for me to be able to truly make a difference.

I want to continue writing on Substack in 2024, and also introduce other creative projects into my life. I think I have been afraid to start something new, in fear that I will be bad at it, but I want to trust the process, and allow myself the time to grow as an artist. Celebrating one year on Substack, back in September, was a milestone for me, because I had remained consistent with a project that doesn’t always give me the immediate feedback and validation that I crave. It has taught me to stay focused on showing up, and celebrating the small wins.

I also want to invest more in my friendships, and embrace lightness, humour, fun. Not every friendship needs to involve sharing our deepest darkest secrets, and not every catch-up needs to be a therapy session. I want to have picnics, go to the movies, talk about silly stuff. I spend so much time reflecting, thinking and analysing, that I’m finding myself drawn to people who are funny, silly, brave, adventurous. It also gives me permission to access that part of myself, and not be so damn serious all the time. A few months ago, I worked with someone for a short period, who was quite spiritual and embodied a lightness that I aspire to. He said something to me that stuck with me: “Kayla, the tiger isn’t in the room” — we went on to discuss how it’s so easy to think of the worst possible outcome, and live our lives in a state of despair and anxiety, but most of the time, it is premature and unnecessary. I now try and remind myself of this, and more often than not, the tiger isn’t in the room, my mind just feels like a zoo.

I’m grateful to have a partner like Tim. Our life is easy and peaceful, and allows me a safe place to return to after a day out in the big wide world, or a day stuck in my own head. I’m now old and wise enough to appreciate the gravity of how lucky I am. We love our life together, and both want to nurture and protect it.

In the TV show that is my life, sometimes I feel like the plot is going no where, or that there’s too much character development. At other times, I appreciate the unexpected plot twists, and how they teach me things I needed to learn. I hope season 31 (we’ve had a good run, haven’t we?) is filled with lots of concerts, good food, creative fulfilment, meaningful connections, and moments of realisation that feel like they’re being filmed in slow motion. I imagine there’s a close-shot of me with a knowing smile, Dreams by The Cranberries starts playing, the credits roll, but you know there’s going to be a new season.