If there’s one thing people closest to me would agree on, it’s that I was born a 35-year-old woman. This has been the running joke about me for as long as I can remember, and I’ve never denied its truth. In the ’90s, I was jamming to oldies in the car with my mom, and I still prefer to listen to Luther Vandross when I’m cleaning my house on Sunday morning. When I was in high school, I was a bit of a Rory Gilmore—buried in books and honors coursework instead of caring about a social life. And in college, I chose to go museum-hopping for my 21st birthday. I’ve always been an old soul. My brain often felt like it was on a completely different wavelength than those of my peers, and I longed for the day my age would finally catch up to my inner world.
Unlike every Friends character in “The One Where They All Turn 30,” I couldn’t wait to turn 30. Not only would my age finally reflect how old I felt mentally, but I just knew my 30s would be my decade—when everything would, just, click. But when I turned 35 a few months ago, I had the harsh realization that my 30s are not what I imagined. If I’m being real, I’m not fully thrilled with where I’ve landed in life.
What I thought my life would look like in my thirties
I always thought that by my mid-30s, I’d be deep into my dream career as a prominent news anchor—earning enough to provide my kids with everything they need to grow into successful, well-rounded humans, while also carving out happiness for myself. I also pictured confidence beyond my wildest imagination, the body of my dreams, and a social life that rivaled Joan Clayton on Girlfriends.
That expectation is not my reality. Don’t get me wrong—I’m still incredibly grateful. My husband loves me, my kids adore me, and our life is full in so many ways. But, my life? The part of my life that’s just mine? The polished woman with the dream job, solid income, and glowing confidence? She doesn’t exist.
“I had never experienced a dream of mine coming true, and I felt like I only existed to make others’ lives better at the expense of my own.”
I know many women would look at my life and think to themselves, “But you are living the dream! Why are you unsatisfied?” They wouldn’t be wrong. I’m incredibly blessed to have two beautiful children that I get to be present for, daily—peanut butter sandwiches, carpool, and all. And I know a “dream career” doesn’t guarantee a “dream life.” Really, this isn’t about a career or my appearance—it’s about how I once trusted myself enough to dream big, only to lose sight of that as life’s responsibilities took over.
What I realized about my life when I turned 35
Over time, I forgot how much my own vision matters—just as much as those I care for. Truthfully, I lost touch with the woman I wanted to become because I didn’t think I was worthy of her. It took me turning 35 to realize how much I’d been ignoring my own desires and how much I was letting fear keep me from becoming who I wanted to be. (Hitting your mid-30s has a way of forcing you to check in with yourself).
Admitting all of this out loud has been brutal—leading to some battles with depression I wasn’t expecting to encounter while I was supposed to be celebrating my birthday. I wrestled with feelings of failure, disappointment, and even guilt for feeling that way. I know my life is still blessed. I’m lucky to be alive, I have a roof over my head, and I’m surrounded by a husband and children who think the world of me. But, I also didn’t recognize myself. I had never experienced a dream of mine coming true, and I felt like I only existed to make others’ lives better at the expense of my own.
As difficult as this realization had been, it’s also the wake-up call I didn’t know I needed. After throwing myself a few mini pity parties (Häagen-Dazs, Gilmore Girls, and a good cry sesh), I decided to let this epiphany force me to make a choice: keep spiraling in disappointment, or do something about it.
Will I continue playing small, choosing to prioritize everyone else’s needs and ignoring my dreams? Will I continue accepting frustration and regret as my norm—settling for less than I deserve? Or, will I finally claim the life I know I’m capable of, even if it means re-writing the version of myself I thought I was supposed to be? Spoiler alert: I’m choosing the latter. I’m done playing small. I’m ready to grab hold of the life I know I’m worthy of, and I’m sharing with you how I’m planning to do it.
How I’m reclaiming my life at 35
Step one: get honest with myself
When things don’t turn out the way you hoped, it’s easier to shift the blame onto life itself or people who have hurt you than to be honest about your own role in your disappointments. Blaming marriage, motherhood, or even grief, would be understandable—but ultimately, unhelpful. I need to admit how much my own fears, doubts, and insecurities got me here. I’m not saying I’m taking a trip down a self-blame memory lane. (That will lead to yet another bed-rotting, Gilmore Girls on repeat crash-out, which is counterproductive.) But before I can move forward, I need to face the truth about why life feels like it’s running me instead of the other way around—and how I got here in the first place.
Part of that honesty requires me to critically reflect on the choices, thought patterns, and behaviors that have shaped the life I’m living now. I have to confront decisions I made that were rooted in insecurity rather than confidence and self-sabotaging behaviors that led to buried potential. I have to consider every time I let myself put someone else’s needs above my own, and why—were the reasons justifiable or based on my lack of self-worth?
“I’m ultimately responsible for my actions, and I need to face how a culmination of those choices has pushed me into the backseat of my own life.”
As much as I’d love to rage-vent in a journal about everything in life that felt out of my control, like losing my father at 24, I’m choosing to take accountability for the actions that have widened the gap between where I am and where I want to be. Yes, there are life events that affected my perceptions of life and myself, and I am noting those things. However, I’m ultimately responsible for my actions, and I need to face how a culmination of those choices has pushed me into the backseat of my own life.
To do so, I’m taking a solo date with my journal at my fave local coffee shop, ordering my go-to triple cappuccino, and embarking on a process I call “Operation Reflect.” This is my way of looking back on the past 10 years with intention, without getting lost in distractions or spiraling off course.
In my journal, I’m listing three major actions, behaviors, or decisions per year that made the biggest impact on my life. For each one, I will ask myself three questions: What was I feeling at the time? Why did I make this choice? And how has it shaped my life today? I’m only allowing myself three entries per year and three questions per entry—otherwise this would turn into a 400-page spiral that no one, not even my therapist, has time for. Most importantly, I’m listening to myself during the process, and if I feel the need to tap out for the day, I will. I’m a firm believe that self-care sometimes looks like closing the journal and ordering a croissant.
Step two: note the proud moments
After my accountability sesh (or sessions, depending on how long it takes me to get through the first step), it’s time to reflect on the moments from the past 10 years that I’m most proud of. This is a vital step in this process—and the most uncomfortable. Noting my own accomplishments is, admittedly, a weakness of mine. I am notoriously hard on myself. However, part of my honest mid-life reflections includes me getting critical about my self-criticism. I recognize the harm my nonstop inner critique has caused, so I’m boldly facing my discomfort and giving myself credit for my accomplishments—even while confronting my disappointments.
Crediting achievements is not a battle that is unique to me. Many of us struggle with only criticizing our shortcomings without acknowledging the progress we’ve actually made. We live in a culture that has, in my opinion, glamorized self-improvement, and that can lead to many of us feeling like failures in constant need of fixing. But, let’s be real: Very few of us are where we hoped we would be—or where society expects us to be at any given age. The timeline we expect ourselves to live by is driven by unrealistic societal expectations that are built on inequitable systems and outdated norms. That said, most of us have accomplished far more than we give ourselves credit for.
“The next chapter of my 30s isn’t about chasing someone else’s version of success. It’s about creating a life that actually feels like mine, one choice, one risk, and one brave step at a time.”
Yes, I’m acknowledging some disappointment and committing to radical changes in my life, but that doesn’t mean I can skip celebrating the wins that have carried me through every difficulty. So, whether I can squeeze it into the same coffee date or need multiple excuses to treat myself to another cup, I’m taking the time to list every moment I’m proud of from the last 10 years. (Two babies delivered!) Staying consistent with my “Operation Reflect” model, I’m aiming for up to three moments per year. For each, I’ll note how I felt at the time and how that moment has shaped where I am today.
Step three: set intentions instead of goals
Once I’ve had a moment to sit with both my self-reflection and my wins, it’s time to draft some grace-filled intentions to move forward. There are key differences between this approach and how I would have planned—or envisioned—my life a decade ago. These intentions will equally hold me accountable for going after the life that I want and make space for my vision—and expectations—to evolve as I evolve. This will challenge me to stop shrinking and start choosing myself, while reminding me that the only timeline I’m on is my own—and making space to celebrate every achievement, planned or not.
Traditional goal-setting methods aren’t really my style. Planners and vision boards are fun, but trendy glow-up challenges rarely fit my lifestyle. I always think I can follow them exactly as written, only for a screaming child or an on-call work shift for my husband to change everything. Even when I was younger and without tiny humans demanding every ounce of my energy, rigid plans made me feel more like a failure rather than in control of my life. One slip-up, and I spent more time obsessing over the mistake than flexing back into the plan. I learned early on that strict routines and my mental health do not get along.
However, I also know that I have to do things differently if I want to see different results. For this to work, I need to find a middle ground between accountability and leaving room for the flexibility my lifestyle requires. I don’t want to blink and have another five years pass by, but I also don’t want to push myself to unrealistic expectations that never allow me to succeed.
“My dreams didn’t disappear—they’ve just been waiting for me to remember them.”
To accomplish this, I’m creating fluid, grace-filled intentions to ensure I actively pursue the life I want while staying open-minded. For me, that looks like setting intentions around how I want my life to feel rather than obsessing over rigid milestones. I plan to choose a few focus areas each season, check in with myself quarterly, and celebrate every small win along the way. Here’s what that looks like for me. (Feel free to join!)
- Create a flexible vision: Rather than focus on specific accomplishments and rigid goals, craft a vision around how you want to feel in 2-3 key areas in your life. You can attach smaller milestones, habits, and checkpoints to these visions, but with the understanding that they may shift as your priorities evolve.
- Have quarterly or seasonal check-ins: Set regular check-in intervals that permit you to adjust the plan as needed. Ask yourself: what’s working? What feels heavy? What needs to change?
- Practice accountability with grace: Use a method of tracking you actually enjoy (habit tracking, bullet journaling, monthly reflections), but instead of focusing on areas of inconsistency negatively, use them as data points for how your vision may need adjusting.
- Think of your vision as a journey, not a finish line: Feeling “behind” only happens when we measure ourselves against someone else’s timeline. This is no longer about where you “hope to be by the time you’re (insert age here).” This is about the person you are becoming every day, no matter what the world throws at you.
How I feel about moving forward
I’m still excited to officially be “in my 30s.” I do feel like my age finally caught up with my old soul-ness (kind of…if anything, my old soul also aged, so now I feel 45 in a 35-year-old’s body, but close enough), and I’m loving the wisdom and clarity that being in my 30s has brought me. The only reason I’m unhappy with where I am in my 30s is that I’ve allowed society to dictate what success looks like, and I’ve allowed fear to hold me back when I should have bet on myself. It’s not that I haven’t accomplished anything—it’s that I’ve been so busy trying to follow someone else’s timeline (and take care of everyone else), I lost sight of the dreams that once lit me up.
But my dreams didn’t disappear—they’ve just been waiting for me to remember them. The next chapter of my 30s isn’t about chasing someone else’s version of success. It’s about creating a life that actually feels like mine, one choice, one risk, and one brave step at a time.
Caroline Sumlin, Contributing Writer
Caroline Sumlin is a writer, author, and content creator specializing in topics ranging from self-worth, lifestyle, wellness, motherhood, education, society, and culture. Caroline received her Bachelor of Arts degree in Journalism from Howard University in Washington, DC. Driven by her passion for freedom and justice, Caroline crafts articles that urge readers to reflect more deeply and critically about themselves, their lives, and the world around them.
Feature graphic images credited to: Tay Nicole | Dupe, Cora Pursley | Dupe, Cindy Charles | Dupe, Cassi Kollmeyer | Dupe, Alina Matveycheva | Pexels
