I brought in my 30th birthday with a bowl of Lucky Charms and a mimosa delivered by my beau, overlooking the ocean from a terrace on the Pacific Coast of Mexico.
It was the best birthday I’d had to date – and not just because of the exotic surroundings, company and opportunity to escape Brexshitland for a while. For the first time in over a decade, instead of feeling daunted about all the things I hadn’t yet achieved, I gratefully welcomed another year on this crazy/beautiful planet with a sense of anticipation and excitement; the start of a new chapter waiting to be written.
I’d spent much of my twenties bouncing from one existential crisis to another. On the surface of it, I’ve done alright. I’ve worked hard to achieve the more tangible milestones I’d set, have had some fantastic experiences, learnt from the not-so-fantastic ones and have so many reasons to be thankful. But I’ve never really pushed myself beyond my comfort zone, particularly when it comes to my career and creativity. Self-doubt and fear of failure have been my bedfellows for far too long, and I’ve talked myself out of so many ideas before giving them a chance to get off the ground.
What’s it all for? Where am I headed? How do I live a life less ordinary when I have bills to pay? Is this… it?
Gazing into my breakfast bowl of diabetes-inducing deliciousness, I had an epiphany. Do I really want to spend my next decade on earth as one of the beige bits – bobbing along, getting by and just about keeping my head above water? Or do I want to be one of the marshmallows, living an unapologetically vibrant existence?
In the words of one of my dearest friends: “Reaching 30 was a wake-up call to shape the type of life I wanted to live. You get to the point when you ask yourself – am I happy living a relatively mundane life? Or do I want to put myself out there and try to create something else? If it’s the latter, you’ve got to stop talking about it and just do it.”
I have more grey hairs than I can count and my metabolism has slowed to a sloth-like pace. Going to a club feels akin to hanging out in a creche and a hangover lasts a week. To borrow the words of Wu Tang, time and mortality aint nothin’ ta f*** wit.
But I’ve never felt more comfortable in my own skin. I’m excited to build on the foundations laid during my 20s and determined not to let me be my own biggest barrier. I’m excited to learn more, give more, try more, create more and heck – maybe fail more.
To start as I mean to go on, I’ve launched this website. Part-portfolio and part-blog, I’ll be writing about all of the things that inspire, infuriate, shape or sustain me. From life to love, travel to politics, feminism, fashion, beauty, books, food, race, class, ass… in short, whatever tickles my pickle. I hope it tickles yours too.
Here’s to being a marshmallow in a sea of beige 🥂