I’ve recently come to terms with the fact that my mid-30s have triggered a significant identity crisis, and I felt compelled to share my thoughts. I sincerely hope others might resonate with this struggle and perhaps offer some wisdom, support, or at least a sense of camaraderie.
Over the last five years, as I’ve transitioned from my 20s to my 30s, I’ve experienced a whirlwind of confusion. This internal conflict is marked by a yearning to relive my younger years—rocking Chuck Taylors while shopping at trendy stores like Forever 21 and posting playful snaps about food-court adventures—contrasted with the urge to embrace the responsibilities of adulthood, such as pushing my toddler through the aisles of Stein Mart in search of those comfy leggings my mom gifted me last year that serve as both shapewear and decent work attire.
The struggle is undeniably real, friends.
I find myself wanting to share risqué memes with my friends while simultaneously having serious discussions with my partner about sensitive topics like child safety as my daughter approaches the stage of sleepovers. I crave the taste of my kids’ Kool-Aid Jammers alongside microwaved Lunchables, yet I also desire a fresh goat cheese salad from the deli on my husband’s way home. I oscillate between binge-watching Full House and scrolling through celebrity Instagram stories, all while contemplating whether to swap my purse for that chic cross-body bag from Liz Claiborne that my mother-in-law gifted me last Christmas. Yes, Liz Claiborne—and I actually adore that gold-plated accessory.
I feel utterly lost at times, caught between the carefree, trendy spirit of my 20s and the organized, responsible persona I’m supposed to embody as a 34-year-old mother. The realization that I’m using phrases like “got me trippin’” at this age doesn’t escape me; I should probably just indulge in a bag of Sour Patch Kids right now.
However, writing this out has proven therapeutic, and I’ve decided to retract my earlier call for guidance on how to navigate this phase. Putting my feelings into words has clarified that fully embracing either identity alone feels rather sad. After all, who wants to be the “trying too hard to be cool” mom? On the flip side, I’m not quite ready to dive headfirst into the world of Macy’s, Family Circle, and the rigid realities of adulthood.
It feels like I’d have to relinquish my beloved SpaghettiOs and commit to steam cleaning my couch once a year. Seriously, what even is that?
So here I am, balancing between two identities that I both cherish and resent. If you’re in the same boat, feel free to join me in this corner of uncertainty. I’ll reassess my identity crisis when I hit 40 or 50—or maybe I won’t.
Rocking Chucks seems like the best approach to tackle menopause, and I might just embrace my inner twenty-something for life.