There’s a very particular kind of internet essay now—written by someone in their mid-late 20s with a lot of feelings about becoming “old” at 29—that somehow gets positioned as profound (like this one or this one). Oh, babe. You have not even begun to live. And I say this as someone who just turned 39.
When I was 29, I considered myself young, but worldly. I’d lived in Argentina, Italy, Burundi, Belgium, and Spain, spoke multiple languages, and had been working in humanitarian aid for several years. Yet I couldn’t get anyone to take me seriously at work, and was regularly dismissed by colleagues as “too young”.
Millennials are cursed with eternal youth in the collective consciousness—even though many of us are now well into our 40s, Gen X and Boomers will still refer to us when what they really mean is “kids these days”. So maybe that’s why, when we were in our twenties, and even when we turned 30, we felt so young—because we were. I actually looked forward to being in my 30s as I thought people might start taking me more seriously (it didn’t help that I’ve always looked about a decade younger than my actual age).
Even now, at my grand old age of 39, I still consider myself young. Maybe that’s what happens when you infantilise an entire generation, or maybe it’s objectively true. While estimates vary, the average expected lifespan for Millennials and Gen Z is around 85—and advances in science during that time may well mean many of us reach our 100s. Which means that, even at 39, I’m not even halfway yet. And you, dear 29-year-old, are not even a third of the way.
Here’s what no one tells you about getting older: it’s actually kind of the best. You know more stuff, your perspectives change, you have experience, you know yourself better, you give less of a fuck what others think. You finally see where your parents were coming from, and grudgingly admit (to yourself, if not to them) that they were right about a lot of things.
And as I look at the women of my cohort—the ones in their late 30s and early 40s—I can see a kind of blossoming happening around me. They’re tired of playing small, of being “nice”, of packaging themselves up to be palatable to the public or dimming their light to make others feel comfortable. They’re unleashing their wild selves, their creativity, and their most unhinged ideas—and they’re making bank. Instead of waiting to be picked, they are crowning themselves, speaking their truth, and choosing rest over people-pleasing. And people are flocking to them like moths to a flame.
Anne Helen Petersen writes about “the portal” as an inner process that women go through around the ages of 37-42. It’s a kind of awakening—a psycho-spiritual growth spurt that can look like crisis, but is often a deep creative realignment.
And here’s what they really don’t want you to know: sex gets way better over 35. At least if you’re a woman—I can’t speak for men. This is one of the great perks of knowing yourself, knowing your worth, knowing your power—and not giving one single fuck about an extra fat roll or slightly saggy tits. Wild, uninhibited sex with men (or women, or whoever floats your boat) who love wild, uninhibited women.
It all comes down to this: the pressure to have it all figured out according to a certain timeline is wrong and harmful. Life is long and winding and messy, and some of your worst experiences will shape you into the best version of yourself. There is no single track to success and fulfillment, and what works for someone else probably won’t work for you, anyway.
And you might as well let go of any projections of what your life “should” look like now, because you’re probably not going to end up where you expect. At 29, most people have yet to experience serious loss, illness, or upheaval. I was recently asked by a group of 29-year-olds if it’s really true that “your 30s are better than your 20s”. They looked a bit shocked when I paused and made a face—it hadn’t occurred to them that your 30s can be a decade of major challenges, from death to divorce and everything in between.
The good news is your setbacks will shape you, they will show you who you really are and reveal depths of resilience you didn’t even know you had. But don’t be surprised if you haven’t “made it” by a certain age or if your life path turns out looking different than what you expected.
That’s okay. It’s actually more than okay—it’s the beauty of life. It’s full of surprises. And some of them are good ones! Like I didn’t know I’d end up living in Barcelona with a sexy Italian silver fox and views of the Mediterranean Sea. But here I am.
The defining setback of my 30s was my mum’s unexpected death when I was just 35. She was the one who taught me that getting older is a gift—to be grateful for every birthday, because not everyone gets that chance. She embodied that message, ageing with grace, never hiding or apologising for it, yet remaining beautiful and glamorous until the end. Her death at just 69 made it heartbreakingly clear just how right she was.
So no, 39 is not a graveyard of dreams. It’s a greenhouse. Things are blooming here—slowly, wildly, on their own timeline.
And if you’re 29, and worried about getting “old,” here’s what I’ll say: You’re not even close.
So use your time. Fill it with life, and let the experience write itself as lines on your face. Let yourself be young—for real.
You’ve got so much living still to do.
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