Returning to My Roots as an Almost 38-Year-Old (and a Reintroduction)
“My mission in life is not merely to survive but to thrive and to do so with some passion, some compassion, some humor, and some style.”
When my hair is in a high bun, which is 90% of the time, a collection of gray strands greets me. They reside mostly on the side of the hair near my ears, hidden when I let my hair hang loose, but fully visible when tied back in any way. According to my mom, there are also some hiding at the back of my scalp.
I can’t remember when I saw my first gray hair. On that day, I probably used my tweezers to pluck it out, hoping it was a fluke. But then more began to appear, faster and in larger chunks.
This recent development of new strands, seeming to poke out from new locations, started eighteen months ago, give or take a month. The only change in my life at that time had been my new job. Could the stress of this position really have amped up the grays that much? Or is it simply the effects of aging?
I'll be turning thirty-eight on April 17th. The number means nothing to me because honestly, after thirty, you stop keeping track. I have to ask my mom how old I am sometimes because I don't remember. And I don't say that in a damn-she's-ready-for-Prevagen way. I say it earnestly.
There's too much stigmatism around aging that doesn't sit well with me. Too many influencers and commercials urging you to buy this magical concoction or this secret potion to slow aging, hide wrinkles, and trick your body into thinking it's an age other than what it is.
Hollering across the river of anti-aging content is pro-aging content; those who offer words of wisdom while dressing in colorful garb and going on grand adventures. They prove age is not a barrier between you and your adventures. I agree.
I am a firm believer that age is just a number. It’s irrelevant unless you want to rent a car or drink legally, though even that changes from country to country.
Never miss a post! Sign up for my email list and be notified when new posts drop.I'm going to be thirty-eight. Thirty-eight. Do I feel thirty-eight? No. What is thirty-eight supposed to feel like? Do my bones and joints snap, crackle, and pop when I stand up? Absolutely. Do I feel more aches after sitting too long or working out? Yup. Do I feel incapable of living my life the way I want because of my age? Not in the slightest.
So while there are moments when I think about my upcoming birthday and the number associated with it and go, “When the hell did that happen?” I am also grateful for what aging brings into my life.
One thing I can say aging gives you is perspective. I do find myself acting as a de facto “older and wiser” co-worker to my younger office mates sometimes. Like the wise neighbor/wizard/mentor/etc in books and movies. It’s hard not to when I hear them discuss trials and tribulations I remember going through—and still do.
I remember an old manager of mine telling me, “Jess, everything you believe in your thirties is going to change.” I was in my mid-twenties when he said this and I was quick to wave it off with a flick of my wrist. Now, I wish I could reach out and tell him that nearing my forties, more than just my beliefs have changed. So listen to your elders (millennials) and trust that we know what we’re talking about. 😉
What do I mean by “returning to my roots?”
On February 18th, I had surgery on my right elbow to repair a torn tendon. I am still in recovery, off from work until May 12th. I had plans to work on some stuff during this time, hoping to add more products to my Etsy shop, catch up on some online courses I haven’t had a chance to start, and publish more on my Substack.
Being a hand down (and my dominant hand at that) made working on a few of those things tough, but I managed in small spurts. However, rather than become a productivity machine now that I had all this free time, something else happened: I turned inward.
I know, I know, very woo-woo. But I love me some woo-woo every now and then, so be prepared to see some of it here.
I didn’t realize how unhappy I was trying to chase a thousand things, all of which were taking me away from the one thing that makes me the happiest: writing.
And so I am forgoing a lot of those preconceived plans for something simpler.
Here are the main things I am going to focus on for the rest of 2025:
Take a year off (or more) from social media, specifically Instagram
Work on a new contemporary fiction novel
Pause all side hustles and pick up new hobbies
Finish my website updates and build my email list
Look for a new job
Publish more on Substack
Get back into a daily meditation practice
Prioritize physical fitness and mental health
I’ll dive deeper into these in future posts, but I wanted to give you a taste of what’s to come.
This redirection comes down to this: I’m tired, exhausted of chasing things beyond my control. All they’ve done is take me away from the things that matter and I’ll no longer allow them to do so. What matters to me are words, progress, creativity, and spending more time off screens.
Because at the end of the day—at the end of our life—it’s not the external validation from others that we’ll remember. It’s the way we validate ourselves by doing and creating things that light us up.
If this post resonated with you in any way, please consider buying me a coffee. A little caffeine goes a long way for a writer, and I will be forever grateful for the fuel. ☕️