On Turning 27


I’ve been past a few milestone birthdays now, and they’ve all come and gone without much event. 18, 21, 25, they were all just other numbers and I didn’t mind being them. For some reason though, 27 feels different.

Maybe it’s because 27 is definitely not mid-twenties anymore, which means it’s late twenties, which is almost thirty. And you’re definitely meant to have your shit together by 30, right?

Maybe it’s because all of those milestones that signpost adulthood, like having a career and getting married and having babies, are just not in my path. Don’t get me wrong, I’m totally OK with that, but if I can’t measure myself against these social norms, how do I know how grown up I am?

I definitely don’t feel like a grown up, but when I take a step back and think about it, I’m not really sure. I live with my boyfriend and we always pay our rent on time. I eat good, healthy food that I cook from scratch. I’ve got a credit card, but no debt and I hardly ever miss people’s birthdays. So I’m responsible, but does that make me an adult by default?

I’m not sure that I’ll ever make sense of these feelings. I’m not sure that I’ll ever feel like a proper grown up (maybe when I get a cat?). But I guess none of that really matters, does it?

27 year old me may pass as an adult, or I might not, but as long as I’m happy and healthy and surrounded by the people I love, I don’t really mind either way.


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