a mid-thirties identity crisis

is it normal to have a 1/3 life crisis?

I’ve been looking through old photos in that nostalgic kind of way you do when you’re trying to find yourself.

It started as a way to find more pictures of my now very senior dog Sawyer as a puppy, and I got those in spades. I couldn’t feel more joy at seeing a young Sawyer run around like a lunatic.

Sawyer’s very best friend, Neo, back when we lived in Daly City. <3 The only big dog he ever loved.

I love my senior boy, but it’s nice to remember the life he’s had. Full of travel he didn’t always want, adventure he was both excited and afraid to take on (same), and a life of so many loves and pats. He doesn’t know how good he has it.

To the right: Tiny tiny puppy, less than a year old.

What I didn’t expect was to be reminded of who I was. Twenty-something in those photos and still rocking my magenta hair, shorter and wilder than I even remembered it. I had electric blue nail polish back then and Type O Negative hoodies I borrowed and never gave back. Lisa Frank socks. A nose ring. God, I miss my nose ring.

Remember when lower stomach tattoos were in? Oops.

It comes at a time when I’ve been feeling a little lost within myself. I’ve always felt very sure of who I am, and even in my most insecure years (of which there were many) I was certain of who I was at my core and most importantly, how to convey that outwardly. The last few years I feel like I’ve been flailing a little. I can’t seem to get my outside to match my inside and my inside itself seems at constant odds with who it is and what it wants.

Graffiti Alley, Toronto. Circa 2014

I’d like to say it isn’t always tied to career but the truth is, for better or worse this is very much how we define ourselves. For me, someone wrapped in a creative industry that relies on constantly showing up and being part of the community, having fallen out of it in recent years has become evident. I’m not that twenty-five year old who can go to every single conference or stay out until midnight at shows. I’m not dropping everything to go see a band at 11pm on a Tuesday anymore.

It’s a part of my life, but it’s no longer my whole life and that leaves me a little alienated.

Boston Calling, 2013 or 2014. Back when it was still at City Hall Plaza and more indie rock than a strange mix of genres. Covering for my old music blog Infectious Magazine.

Lately, I’ve been trying to immerse myself more in the writing community as I work on getting my novel finished and out there. I’ve met some brilliant writers and participated in beta groups like Bianca Marais’ Great Beta Reader Match Up, which has been amazing. I’ve found a great group of women there. Outside of that, I’m still finding my place on Substack and trying to find others writing Women’s Fiction or Romance that leans more towards Women’s Fiction. It’s been tricky.

One thing I feel like I’ve finally got a hold of is my outward appearance. For years I tried on different cuts and colors, bouncing from blonde to balayage to straight-up strawberry blonde and red. It was fun, but it never quite felt like me.

The blond in particular was a disaster. What was I thinking?!

I even enlisted the help of my friend Bri at Vostra Moda, who runs a personal styling business and is a true godsend for anyone looking to get a little help with their wardrobe or just get the courage to clean out their closet. It was the first time I really thought about clothes as a way to express myself instead of just…something to wear.

It took me going through a lot of trial and error to finally end up back where I always was. Which is to say, short hair, nose ring (well, stud for now, but back to the ring soon!), jeans, and a casual tank top or sweater.

Current hair situation.

For a long time I thought being in your thirties meant growing up and to me that meant Ann Taylor, office job, full salary, and reading and watching shows that maybe made my eyes glaze over but would make me sound smart.

It meant stepping into a role I had spent my whole life fighting.

It turns out, I had it right all along. Working for myself, traveling, a touch of spontaneity, nose rings—these aren’t the markings of a twenty something year old, they’re just the markings of a person who knows who they are and wants to show the world how they feel.

They’re the markings of me.

And finally, I think, I’m starting to come back to myself.

—

Anyone else out there having a mid-thirties crisis? Spiraling into wondering who you are or how you got here? I’m finally getting on the other side of it and embarrassed to say that while the soul searching helped, the hair cut and re-piercing of my nose helped more. So, if you’re feeling this way…maybe cut your hair and pierce your nose?

Thanks for reading,

Angela xo