Waking up and realizing I had turned 29 felt a little unreal. There’s a subtle shift that comes with getting older, even while still in my twenties. What I mean by “feeling older” isn’t negative; it’s a growing self-awareness, a clearer sense of what truly serves me and what doesn’t, and most importantly, what I genuinely want.
Let me give you a recent example. On my birthday night, my boyfriend and I were walking home from Club A Steakhouse on 58th Street to our apartment on 14th Street. He asked if I wanted ice cream. My immediate thought went to Google Maps, a slight flutter of “ants in my pants,” because I did want ice cream, but I knew the specific place I was craving was closed. This meant if I settled for a random new spot, it probably wouldn’t be as good as I hoped. So, I turned the question back to him, asking if he wanted any dessert. He usually likes cookies, and we briefly considered ordering his favorite cookies to create our own cookie sundae with supermarket ice cream. But those cookie stores were also closed. In the end, we returned home with no dessert, just sparkling water, on my birthday night.
The logic behind this decision was simple: sugar and most desserts aren’t truly beneficial for our bodies. The desire for them, especially on a birthday, often stems from a sense of ceremony or societal influence. Having dessert just because it’s my birthday felt less like a genuine craving and more like fulfilling an expectation. The idea of a birthday cake, for instance, often exists because people want to fit in or are subtly influenced, even if they don’t truly enjoy the taste.
On the other hand, there were two decisions on my birthday that, while perhaps not ideal for everyone, I don’t regret. First, in the afternoon, we crossed the Manhattan Bridge to Brooklyn for a massage class. The subway also crosses the Manhattan Bridge, and the noise made walking across it incredibly uncomfortable. Next time, I’d choose the Brooklyn Bridge! But I don’t regret the decision; at least now I know. And the cost was minimal, especially compared to the potential regret of eating bad ice cream and consuming unnecessary calories and added sugar.
The second thing was visiting a steakhouse that had been on my list for a while. It was okay, but not fantastic. We waited half an hour to be seated despite having reservations, and everything felt incredibly slow, except for how quickly they cleared the tables. The photo they took of us was blurry, and it was more expensive than other steakhouses. But it was on my list! If I hadn’t tried it, I probably would have kept wondering about it.
These two examples might seem to have different implications at first glance, but the underlying logic is the same: being honest with myself. It’s about truly knowing what I want and making decisions based on that, rather than on obligation or external pressure. This principle can be as simple as choosing food in daily life, or as significant as choosing a career path or a partner.
My expectation for myself in my 29th year boils down to this seemingly simple, yet often challenging, principle: be honest with myself in every single choice.
Choosing a career path or an opportunity that society deems “good” but you’re unsure if you’ll like is akin to having a random ice cream or cake just to celebrate your birthday. You might feel good, but you might not. If it’s good, it’s likely due to luck because you were following someone else’s decision-making process. But if it’s not good, you’re left with regret and the cost of lost opportunities. On the other hand, if we are truly honest with ourselves, we might still make choices that don’t turn out “perfectly,” but because they were made after clear, self-aware decisions, there’s nothing to regret. Especially if something’s cost is minimal, we should absolutely try it.
Ultimately, what makes life meaningful is judged solely by ourselves, not by others. This is a reflection from someone who feels herself “getting older” in the best sense, and who wishes to live the rest of her life with greater honesty and authenticity.