Thank God I didn't peak at 22
I promise you, you haven't hit the best times of your life yet.
This week I turn 32, and something about it just feels… right. I don’t feel rushed to do any crazy last-minute solo trips to celebrate. I don’t feel pressure to do anything major with my friends or family. I just feel at ease about flowing into my birthday in a way that I’ve never done before. Quietly.
32 feels like a sigh of relief.
After fighting so hard to shift, shape, and structure the future, I’ve accepted that there is only so much I can control. I feel a renewed passion and energy in my soul that I just find so inspiring. It’s comforting to know that the best years of my life are not behind me; they’re still being formed right now.
That’s why I hate that the thirties have gotten such a bad reputation, and we don’t do much to help it. Content and conversations about this age seem to be shaped around how much time’s been wasted, how to reinvent yourself, go harder, or flat-out contempt for the twenties. The obsession with things like 30 under 30 or holding tightly to looking and feeling younger than your age has led us to believe that when you reach this age and don’t have anything to show for it, then your life is somehow going downhill.
You mean to tell me the highlight of your entire existence was at 25?
I refuse to believe that.
Something about the deep disdain people have for their 30’s reminds me of a moment from the last day of grad school. After the final assignment was turned in and our 60 weeks were over, through a teary-eyed farewell, our professor shared one last token of wisdom that’s followed me for years: “Don’t peak too soon.”
At the time, it just sounded like a clever thing to say in the moment.
I’m starting to fully understand it now.
The assumption is that the peak marks the beginning of the downfall. I think the reality is more complex than that. Peaking is the moment when you’ve become so comfortable, so familiar, so nostalgic for a moment that has come and gone that you refuse to accept what is. It’s about staying in the past as much as it’s about trying to force a future. Peaking is scrambling to believe that any moment but this one is where you belong.
Up until a few weeks ago, I’d never put that much stock into my age. It just was what it was. When I attended a housewarming party over the holidays, something about that mindset shifted.
As the afternoon went on, the conversation drifted to life milestones and trading stories about the worst age we’ve ever been. Heartbreaks at 22. Uncertainties at 25. Stuck at 27. I listened intently to their stories about what it felt like to be in their twenties, and I joked about how most of that changes in your thirties. It was just an offhanded remark until the energy in the room shifted onto me. “Do your thirties really feel that… different?” Someone asked, “No, but it feels better.”
The thing about ‘better’ is that it isn’t a destination you arrive at. It’s the subtle shifts you notice over time. The fear that melts away when you’re faced with a familiar challenge. The way you summon your inspiration back when it’s blocked. The sweetness of the work returning after rest from burnout.
The situations you face don’t change—you do.
But something about that conversation made me think back on all the times life felt like it had reached its peak. Like it was “as good as it was gonna get.”
When I was 22, graduation should have been the highlight of my life, but I was an emotional wreck. I spent most of my time in one spot on the couch, sad and scared about what was coming after undergrad. As my friends got job offers and grad school acceptances, I had nothing. It felt like they were peaking, and I was being left behind. Not realizing that my path was just different from theirs.
By 25, I started working at one of the top advertising agencies in the industry and was thriving. But something felt like I wasn’t supposed to be here. So I went looking for my place. Agency after agency, I slowly chipped away pieces of myself, my confidence, my fire, until eventually there was nothing left. I thought this was what my career was just going to be. If I had peaked then, I would have stayed in those places that weren’t meant for me, wondering what life could have been, and never seeking more.
When a pandemic hit, I was lying back in my childhood bedroom at 27, still crying over stupid boys in the same spot from 10th grade. I was deeply disappointed in myself. Like I’d never really grown up. I didn’t know what life could be on the other side of that. Until I discovered that rock bottoms were the perfect foundations for building something better. Had that been my peak, I’d probably still be in that room today.
Truthfully, it used to bring me so much grief that those moments shaped my twenties. So much so that turning 30, I didn’t know what to expect. Another decade of burnout? Fear? Heartbreak? Maybe. But while the challenges may stay the same, the lessons I learned have hardened into pillars of wisdom that keep me grounded this time. None of that would have happened if I peaked too soon.
I see things differently now. The dreams I’m building at 32 would have never been possible ten years ago. The wrong people and places taught me all the right things. Focusing on my own pace gave me confidence and trust in the race that I’m running. And I grew secure enough with myself to understand that a table for one is better than no table at all.
It’s a privilege to age. It’s something many people don’t get to do. And with it comes the realization that the challenges we face and the shifts we go through are proof that we’re still growing.
Thank God I didn’t peak at 22.
