I’m 28 in 2 days. Or possibly tomorrow, since nobody knows when my birthday is. (I was not, contrary to rumour, found in a bin).
Me running towards my daddy, behind the camera that was his 5th limb for a decade.
27 has defined, “the best of times, the worst of times”. Absolute aceness mixed with arseness. I’ll be glad to see the back of it, though things have been looking up. And yet, to see the back of any year fills me with dread. I sat today in the park near my house and read (Primo Levi- cheerful stuff!) and cursed myself for not appreciating the summer sooner. How many we will see? And etc. But I’ll be in Paris with Robert so shall enjoy that. And have had a lovely few days celebrating our first wedding anniversary. One year already! What the hell. Life is brief and strange.
I’m a ray of sunshine, me.
I feel quite apprehensive about this one, due to my recent freakouts. Is 28 old? Oldish? How was 28 for you?
And I have been writing this blog since I was 20. OH DEAR. This blog is older than some little people I know.
Filed under: being old |
The Secret Life of a Manic Depressive 
Don’t know what feeling old or young is like. My consciousness never felt like it had an age assigned to it. I am just amazed that I made it this far into adulthood; halfway to 90.
I have a strange relationship with the age 28. When I was 21 I had a girlfriend who was 28 who was very insistent that she was SO much older than me. And I suppose I did feel that too, but it was she that most often referred to our “tremendous” age difference.
So when I turned 28 my first thought was “huh! Now I’m *that* age.” I hadn’t seen her for many years by that point so I had lots of thoughts about wondering how she was doing “now”. When I’d last seen her she was in a relationship with someone who had beaten her up (another woman, a same-sex relationship). I’d done my best to tell her this was a relationship she should abandon but she abandoned our friendship instead.
Every so often I will think of her. She will be FIFTY YEARS OLD in a year or two. So I’ll think about her a lot then, I imagine.
I’ve had to think hard and even resort to Wiki for that year’s news and music to get the vaguest idea of what happened when I was 28. I don’t mean I’m ridiculously old and senile, but that nothing significant or interesting happened – a bit like 27 and 26 really. However, the lack of anything happening is significant, because at that age I was on the cusp of realising what a miserable life I’d settled for, and making big changes over the next few years, finally becoming really happy in my 30s.
I turn 27 in about two months, so I don’t know what 28 is like. But ages are very difficult to compare. Everyone is always the oldest they’ve ever been. I’ve spent the entire year trying to get used to be 26 and when I finally get sort of used to it, it’s time to get older!
28 is good because it is not 29. 29 is nearly 30 and that sucks!
Ni idea if it’s old or young. I turn 31 in a few days and it freaks me out. That’s, like, proper old. No longer have I just turned 30, I’m not in my thirties. Bah.
Still, I have thoughts like this every year. Old? Not old? Getting older? Now I’m not sure of even that last one! At 28 I was, er, married, working where I am now, going a bit mental every now and then, studying, drinking cider. Now I’m not studying and instead I knit. Other than that…
My mum says she feels no different now at 57 to how she did at 17. As long as I’m not as awkward now as I was at 17 I’m OK with that!
Happy birthday. 🙂
I have also still not learned to pay attention to typos after 9pm.
At 48 I can say that 28 seems like yesterday. I always tell people to think about the age of their spirit rather then the age itself. While my balding and greying hair says I’m close to my age my spirit feels more like 35. Live Laugh Love is the mantra I try to remind myself of on a daily basis in addition to living in the present. Have fun on your 28th birthday.
27 was quite a defining year for me so I was quite pleased to turn 28 and start again. Shortly after turning 28 I met a lovely chap who was the corner-stone in the change from me going out with insecure ego-maniacs to spending valuable time with a decent kind man. 3 years later, I haven’t looked back.
Honey, I have new shoes that are 28…just ask my 40 year old son how long I’ve owned those Go-Go Boots! For my mom, who died at 36, 28 was “old”…for my dad, who died at 48, 28 was “middle age”…but for my DH, who turns 71 next week, and I will be 61 next month…the best of times and the worst of times have come and gone several times.. And if we are lucky, will come and go several more…now, go out and celebrate life!!! Celebrate that you don’t take pills to keep you from having a heart attack…or pills to ease the chronic, unrelenting pain…celebrate that disease has not stolen your eyesight…and don’t forget to tell your “very aged parents” “thank you” for life….we go to visit my DHs 95 year old mother in hospice today…lift a glass to your future…and to your own 95th birthday….
I am 28.75 years old in 2 days.
The only real difference is that I now say, with slightly more confidence, “ugh. I’m not doing that – I’m in my late 20s.”
They is only ONE thing worse than getting old….and that’s not getting old. ..every birthday above ground is a good birthday. Sure I’ll be hitting 30 of myself next march…do it worry me? nah!
28 is a good year. When younger, you put a lot of emphasis on age. (Is this because of incessant birthday parties/expectations when even younger?). As you turn the corner to 30, which btw was a fabulous decade, you don’t think so much about it. 40 becomes the next “worry” target. In the end you are what you are when you are. Age is arbitrary.
28? I dreaded being 28, it felt so old. Hated it. Yet my 30th birthday which I thought would be the worst thing that ever happened to me turned out to be wonderful and I loved my 30s. I’ve always been afraid of ageing but now I’m finding I’m comfortable with it; in fact I nearly love it. I think it’s because the reality is so much better than the dread of it. How weird (and cool) is that?