Scary Numbers
Youth is a short-term disadvantage
When I was 28, I was desperately, stupidly in love with a man fourteen years older. The age difference didn’t bother me much — I lived in Moscow, and it was, let’s say, culturally accepted — but it bothered him enormously. I couldn’t quite understand why. At some point, when we’d both grown tired of the conversation, he said: “Sweetheart, don’t worry. Youth is a short-term disadvantage.” As you can imagine, I didn’t understand that one either.
This month I turned 37. And I understand him so much better — both parts. Frankly, I’d been waiting for this decade like crazy. But on my 30th birthday I realized the next milestone was 40 — and the fear moved through me like a cold wave. Every birthday since, I kept thinking: that scary number is getting closer. But it was still at a safe distance. Not anymore.
Maybe it’s post-Soviet conditioning (can’t miss an opportunity to blame the cultural mindset). Maybe generational. But I feel like certain ages come with a checklist stapled to them.
By 30:
☑ A career that’s either skyrocketing or about to
☑ Savings
☑ Look hot (I did, even though I’ve never believed it)
☐ A partner in your bed
Entering my 30s, I was failing at the permanent someone. But the rest — achieved. In some places, overachieved.
By 40:
☐ Be a mom (a present partner would be nice but it’s off the checklist by then)
☐ Own property
☐ A settled outstanding career
☐ Stability
I’m approaching 40 with none of the above checked. Am I cool about it? Not entirely.
This month I’ve been living under rocket attacks. On my actual birthday, I was in the shelter at least four times. Between sirens, I had lunch with friends at our favourite restaurant — which was serving a “life during the war.”
My phone didn’t stop. I’ve received so many flowers! It was, by any measure, a very full day. And an existential crisis of this kind — I hope you never have one — has a way of pushing you toward the questions that don’t fit into a normal daily routine.
My 30s: I lost more than I gained, in the visible, material sense. Two harsh falls from broken to back on my feet (spoiler: the second one was easier — turns out surviving something once makes you better at it). It would be fair to call this my learning decade — and learning through experience is brutal, but if you actually learn from it, the trajectory goes through the roof. This decade turned out to be liberating, femenine, self-defining. I didn’t settle anything in the conventional sense. But I got every tool I need to grow into a version of myself I find genuinely interesting. I’m extremely curious about her, by the way.
Huge revelation: the career I’d spent over decade building turned out not to be the one I want anymore. I know the market, I can find my place in it, I’m good at it. I’m also profoundly bored — by the pace of the field, by its rigidity, by the politics. I still want to curate. Just not art. More specifically: I want to build.
Yes, I'm scared of aging. Scared of being late to the party, of running out of my best productive — and reproductive — years. But honestly? I don't think I was ready to handle that party before now.
If you want an extraordinary life, it demands extraordinary effort. I'd add: it demands pain you didn't sign up for, a slightly delusional growth mindset, real grit, and a bottomless hunger.
I love to celebrate my birthday — friends around, great food, somewhere worth going. This year, rockets. I didn't get the birthday I always do. But I gave myself a great gift: time to think, refine, and define:
What are my values and real aptitudes?
Who I am now and who I want to become?
What kind of life I actually want?
What is my why?
What kind of pivot I’ll do this time and how my experience can be celebrated in it?
What are my hobbies vs. what is my routine?
What is my relationship with money, and how do I improve it? (turns out that relationship is just as complicated for women as the ones we have with lovers.)
If you have the time or the inclination, I highly recommend Becoming You by Suzy Welch and her method (easy to read, genuinely useful tests). That should be enough, but me being me, I added Start with Why by Simon Sinek and Worth It by Amanda Steinberg.
Fear of time should be the least to keep me back from all my dreams and aspirations. Especially because, at 37, I’ve never looked hotter.
Yours,
Miri