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30/03, I turned thirty-four. That’s right bafazi. I am officially in my Mid-30s, and I am so excited. I’ve always loved new beginnings, new chapters, fresh starts, and especially birthdays. There is just something about being given another year to grow, to evolve, to begin again. Now that I think about it though, my late 20s were shaped by a quiet, lingering fear. Turning 30 didn’t feel guaranteed for me. My mom never made it to 30, and neither did her mom. That reality nested in my belly; I went on living each day but nervously waiting for my “last day”. And because of that, there were dreams I dared not to dream, desires I didn’t fully allow myself to hold, just in case my time here was shorter than I had hoped. Looking back now, I wish I had allowed myself to live more freely, to embrace life in its fullness without that weight and the constant need to play it safe . You know, I wish I had travelled more, seen the world beyond what was familiar, and allowed myself to experience life more fully instead of staying where things felt predictable. I often think about how I could have embraced the uncertainty of the quarantine days by becoming a digital nomad, working from new places, adapting, and discovering parts of myself I never gave a chance to emerge. Also giving my entrepreneurial side a chance by taking business risks too (beyond selling Avon and Justin at work), instead of waiting for the “perfect” moment that never really came. I have learned that fear doesn’t always show up loudly, it can be subtle, restrictive, and deeply limiting in ways you don’t even notice at the time. What I know now is this, if there’s anything we owe ourselves, it’s to not allow fear to rule us. You can be nervous, yes, that’s normal. You can be uncertain, that’s part of life too, but never, and I mean EVER allow fear to be the thing that decides how you live your life. That’s the greatest thief. It steals time, joy, possibility, and presence. The bible warns us to fear not, that’s an everyday instruction from God. So here I am, in my mid-30s, choosing to live a little braver, dream a little bigger, and to go all the way and give life my best shot. Hold on… WHAT DO YOU MEAN I AM 34???? It sounds like a serious age. I started 34 with a 5km run. Year 33 gave birth to a runner, yes, I AM A RUNNER. Somewhere between catching my breath and counting my pace, I was thinking that perhaps the confusion on whether or not I am a “real” adult is because I never really had a blue print of the type of adult I have become. That is a gap I didn’t realise until I reflected. Growing up, the 34-year-old women I was exposed to looked very different. They were running households, raising children, holding everything together in ways that felt so defined and structured. There was a clear picture of what that stage of life was supposed to look like and somehow, 34 year old me looks nothing like what I saw growing up. 34 year old me is dreaming about European summers, chasing a sub-60, and figuring out my 30s as I go. This is not a complaint by the way, I am actually okay with that. I do wish I had seen more women choose different paths growing up. Daring to start that bakery, get that degree, take the overseas trip or simply live in the everyday bliss of pleasure. And today feels like I live my everyday for each of those women who wished to be what I now wake up to be. Modimo re a go leboga for real! 33, what a year my babe. If I could describe it in one word, it would be REBIRTH. The year I finally returned to the young girl that was not afraid to dream, care free and fearless. There was something so easy about the year, light, even the lows felt short and almost gentle. I started the year with the news that I had finally completed my masters degree after years of fighting for my life. In a month, I would learn that I would be going on my first international trip to Greece…. wait for it….. IN SUMMER….. and this gave birth to my Eurosummer dreams. From there, it felt like every month carried something new, so many firsts. I ran my first 10km race in April. Life felt exciting again, like I was finally present, and taking each day and month as it came. Easy, soft and so joyful. Also, life would not be life if it didn’t find a way to balance things out. In between all that joy, there were losses too. I remember being at my absolute happiest, and telling my friends something I had just realised, that there are actually levels to happiness. When I was Greece, I experienced a kind of joy I had never felt before, it was like I had unlocked a new level of happiness. On the last day of my trip, the day I was meant to come home, I woke up still wrapped in that feeling. The kind of joy that lives inside you and around you, like it’s gently watching over you, ready to refill you the moment you feel it fading. I found out a couple of hours later that in fact it was not there to refill me, it was preparing to leave me. I lost my passport mid transit, the passport was in a small bag that also had my bank cards and my cell phone that had my digital cards. I cried until my face my swollen, I felt everything at once, sadness, anger, disappointment and even a deep sense of hopelessness. I was crashing out okay!! The girl I
