This March, I turned 29 years old and the first decade of my adult life came to a close. <insert farewell music>.

In the days leading up to the day, I was quite uneasy and kept waiting for something to click, something to change, some divine clarity to hit. I kept waiting for that ‘aha’ moment to come. As the clock would chime at midnight on my birthday, wouldn’t I be blessed with some divine wisdom?

Spoiler Alert – I did not even stay up till midnight to hear that clock chime.

Turning 30 always seemed so far away. When I turned 20, my being 30 seemed light years away – something that would eventually happen. I would be a wise, graceful old dame who would have her life completely figured out – the delusions had maxed out there. It seems so far-fetched as I look back at it now. Foolish even.

Now that I am here, surprisingly, I do not have any regrets. I am not sad about the things I was not able to do, the places I was not able to see, the dreams that are still dreams. I don’t feel liberated nor do I feel terrified. There are experiences, lessons, moments and mistakes. There are books that I read, work that I trudged through, music I loved, food I still cannot get over, and sights that are etched in my mind forever. I have people who have brought me immense joy and people I wish to smack in the face with a chair. I bought things I once wished for and things I absolutely do not need. I was broke, I saved money and I spent an entire month’s paycheck in a day. I took thousands of pictures and never posted them. I have set alarms to wake up at the crack of dawn and opened eyes at lunch. I have bought a planner every year and given up 2 months in. Laughed till I peed and cried my eyes out too. Stayed up nights in a row and slept entire days. I have taken up hobbies and never looked back at them to this day.

I have done this and that. Been here, there, everywhere.

Now all of this sounds pretty and hopeful and very all things bright and beautiful but there have been moments that I wish to never live again. There have been losses that have cut flesh deep and have altered biochemistry. There is trauma that is still alive and well. Anger that has had the best of me. There have been tears, financial losses, dysfunctions, lost friendships, failed gym memberships, and me trying to lose weight every year and just gaining more.

There has been life.

I realise my biggest fear has been just existing in a world which, for the lack of a better word and despite everything wrong in it, is all things bright and beautiful. As I look back – every book, movie, song, sight, person, meal, person, picture, high, low – all of it has made me who I am. I don’t know where this turn on the road leads to and I think I am okay with that. I am ready to walk and see the sight down the curve.

29 is the year in between. You are not 20 but you are not 30. Not quite young anymore but not too old. A child yet an adult. There is a pressure to settle and figure it out but there is a quiet confidence too. It is the limbo year – a year of quiet transformation.

This in-between is where my life has happened.

No fairy godmother came down and blessed divine wisdom upon me, but there is one gift that my 20s have given me. Acceptance. Of situations as they are, of me as I am, and of life as it is. Don’t worry – there is screaming, crying, yelling – all adjectives are in motion. But eventually I accept. I survive. I live.