33

At PopTech a few people asked me how old I was, and I answered, "33" to all of them.  It was maybe the third person who asked when I realized, wait a minute, I'm not 33 at all.  I'm still 32, for another couple of months.  I thought this was a little bit strange, that I've somehow jumped into the future in my own head, and I wondered what was going on. 

I've noticed, too, that I've been thinking about this past year, and my goal of trying to be brave.  I've been thinking about how that's been going for me, and the ways in which it's gotten easier and the ways in which it's still tough.  I've been thinking about what kind of goal I want to set for myself for being 33.  I think answering the how old are you question with "33" is connected to some kind of sense I have that it's time to assess and think about the way I want to stretch for the next 12 months or so. 

I'm pretty proud of this year, even though it was a hard one.  (Are there easy ones?)  I was lonely and sad last winter, and I was torn between trying to keep it a secret and trying to feel safe enough to admit it.  I also was pretty sure I didn't want to go back to being a lawyer, but without knowing what I would replace it with I wasn't willing to let it go or tell anyone that.  I haven't told you here, but I spent a long time last year applying for a fairly prestigious law-related job and working my way through a pretty laborious application process.  It was a stretch for me; I was up against highly qualified people and it was beyond my experience level.  And it didn't look like I was going to get it and then unexpectedly it was back on the table at the beginning of the summer; it was mine for the taking. But by then I had admitted that I want to write more than I want to do anything else.  I'd begun to let go of the idea of law and the habit of trying to jump through hoops.  I'd noticed how happy things like being outside every day make me.  I turned down the job that I'd spent more than 6 months reaching for, still without a clear alternative or a very good explanation to point to.  It felt pretty clear that it would have pulled me away from the things that give me the most satisfaction.  That seemed like the wrong direction to go. 

What else happened this year?  I sent off my first piece of writing to a magazine, and the magazine I sent it to is publishing it next month.  They sent me a check.  They didn't edit it very much -- mostly some changing of punctuation, commas to dashes or vice versa, three or four little cuts or sentence rearrangements that I found pretty sensible.  I still haven't gotten up my nerve to send anything else out to anyone, but when I say to myself, "Sherry, you fool, you're deluding yourself to think you can write," I do have to stop and take a breath and say, well, so far the world hasn't given you any reason to give up just yet. 

I finally walked a marathon and it was hard.  I learned that I don't have cancer, and how very scary it is to spend months wondering, even a little bit, whether I might.  I'm thankful every single day that my colon is healthy.  How many of you smile appreciatively into the toilet after you poop and feel a sense of gratitude that you're okay?  There's a silver lining on every cloud, and sometimes they show up in strange places.  In a new agey way, the clearing up of this condition feels like it's connected to some kind of unblocking in my spirit.  That's a little too groovy for me, but the doctor doesn't have a better explanation, and I do feel like my present life and my commitment to being as brave and authentic as I can stand is healthier than any alternative I've tried. 

I haven't found love yet, but I've tried.  I had my heart broken.  I've been disappointed, and confused, and surprised.  At moments, I've been delighted and hopeful and giddy.  But I've tried to be honest about what I feel and what I don't and I'm not ashamed of myself.  Maybe I'll never have this part of my life work the way I want it to.  But most of the time I don't feel broken, or like there's something wrong with me that I need to cover up and keep secret.  As my friends hurtle further into domesticity, almost all married and many of them pregnant, I worry that I'll be caught up in self-conscious bitter spinsterhood, the extra chair at the dinner table.  So far it hasn't taken over.  I'm still fumbling along as well as I can, trying to follow the compass I've got, making wrong turns and starting over. 

I'm trying to be a good coach.  It will be hard to do.  Every day I see so many ways I can be better at it, and those glimpses are motivating and tiring all at the same time.  What I get to do in this position, though, is watch people striving to get better at something that's complicated.  I love my sailors, and it feels like an honor to be able to help them with this process.  The ones that get better, the ones who I can help the most, have two characteristics.  They're not afraid to admit that they want to be better than they are, and they're not afraid to try things that they don't already know how to do, and screw them up the first few times before they get them right.  I've spent this past year beginning to learn how to do these two things: admitting who I am and the ways I want to be better than I am, and trying things that I'm going to screw up for a while, with some kind of trust that the attempt, and the screwing up, will push me further along.       

Comments

[Fred Faulkner IV]

I've been saying I'm 28, then doing a double take asking myself "Is that right? No, I'm 27" for the last two months and I don't actually turn 28 for until the end of December! so you're not alone.

[Dylan]

I've been 30 for several months now. My birthday is November 14.

[a]

I suppose jumping a year ahead is better than just staring back blankly and thinking "how old AM I?" as if you've completely lost track.

And thanks for this post. And for not just being brave, but being brave enough to be scared sometimes too, and to admit it.

[bill]

You know, tradition has it that Christ was crucified at 33. But don't even think about it.

[Dave]

And Alexander the Great had conquered most of the then known world by age 33, the age at which he too died.

Actually "known world" is a slightly odd term considering that the American continent was inhabited at this time and presumably the inhabitants "knew" their world every bit as well as the Macedonians, Greeks et al knew the Mediterranean world.

[bill]

I read somewhere that westerners never "discovered" habitable land on which people weren't already living. They just weren't westerners. Oops, that doesn't have much to do with age 33. Sorry.

[Isaac Laquedem]

Tom Lehrer's famous line was one he gave in his introduction to his song "Alma," when he said, "It's people like that (meaning Alma Mahler Gropius Werfel) who make you realize how little you've accomplished. It is a sobering thought that when Mozart was my age (38), he had been dead for two years."

[PG]

I tend to do the reverse; I forget that I've already turned the age I am now, because I'm still in the habit of being the year younger. I do the same thing with what year it is for the first month or so.

I haven't found love yet, but I've tried. I had my heart broken.

Can you have your heart broken without having found love? It has to have been love in your own heart at least, even if not in the other person's and even if it didn't last. I have found love that is now gone (at least in the romantic sense), but I have found it.

I wouldn't worry about your being the extra chair. For as long as you are single, you will be the envy of your married friends for your interesting single life; when you get married, they'll envy you your husband. It's just a matter of how cool your life seems from the outside.