I turned 36 yesterday.

It was an occasion filled with cards and FaceTime, far too much food, surprising presents (a laser tag set that had us shooting at each other all over the house and my very own scooter) and luxurious ones (a weighted blanket, chocolate and velvet pajamas). The kids relished the change in schedule – Ivy dramatically declaring it ‘the best day of my life!’ The weather was made to order – perfectly sunny, without a hint of wind. Even lockdown couldn’t taint the celebration.

Birthdays prompt reflection. I comb through the lessons of the year, looking back at what has been. There have been no ground-breaking epiphanies this time – although my choice to become sober has had echoing effects that continue to pay off far beyond what I could have even imagined. It has been a cycle of sowing – little steps and habits, better cycles and routines that have become second nature.

This year, I was caught by the notion of time itself. I’m not sure whether it is a natural consequence of getting older, but the concept is starting to seem quite fluid.

I am all the ages at once.

I’m the toddler grabbing onto the wrong pair of legs at an amusement park, feeling a sense of horror at my mistake. The eager scholar meeting with my new Principal for a Kindergarten orientation interview and being crushingly disappointed that I’m not allowed to start school that very day.

I’m the heart-broken girl leaving a love note on a crush’s chair in Grade 3 and watching him crumple it up and throw it to the ground. The bewildered one who loses her best friend to another. The girl who squints at the blackboard and wonders how everyone else can make out words when all I see is squiggles. I’m the proud owner of a large pair of plastic purple glasses exclaiming in wonder that ‘there are LEAVES on the trees, WORDS on the street signs and STARS in the sky!? Can everyone see this? Why did no one tell me they were actually real!?’

I’m the shy girl with the flute turning around to laugh at the trumpet player’s jokes. I’m the one who sheds her braces, cuts her hair and gets contacts all at once – and then finds that she’s suddenly not invisible to the boys anymore. I’m the obsessed soccer player – spending every lunch time lacing up my runners and racing out to the oval. I’m the one who sings passionately with my friends in three part-harmony – composing songs together and performing them at every opportunity. I’m the girl who writes love letters and imagines she is one half of Joey and Dawson, the one who has tea-towel battles and water fights inside the Home Economics room… and the one who lets her grades slip because she is far too taken with flirting.

I’m the determined girl who declares that she will never let her studies come second again, and the one who ends up as Dux of the college. I’m the one who chooses Law as her first preference and is astonished to find she’s actually been accepted. I’m the one who has her illicit first kiss near the fish bell on Portarlington Beach Mission, and feels sick with regret almost immediately. I’m the one who sneaks home from uni every day to watch Felicity. I’m the girl who writes songs and teaches herself guitar and piano, daydreaming she will one day be a famous singer/songwriter. I’m the girl who says hello to the charismatic leader of the Students For Christ group one day, and ends up marrying him a year and a half later.

I’m the wide-eyed girl who marries at 20, going on a whirlwind ride through churches and youth groups as a ‘pastor’s wife’, seeking desperately to fill a pre-formed mold. I’m the one who becomes a Personal Injury lawyer – meeting clients and attending court – all the while thinking she’s not old enough to do any of this grown-up stuff.

I’m the excited woman who has her first child at 26 and tries to juggle motherhood and work. I’m the overwhelmed one who has another child only 18 months later and finds herself in the depths of Post Natal Depression, while living in a share-house with another family. I’m the intrepid woman who has two more children, and realises her heart can expand to infinity when she takes the time to let it heal.

I’m the resentful woman who forgets herself – burying desires underneath housework and endless tasks. I’m the tentative one who reluctantly starts a blog and finds a sense of purpose hiding between the keys. I’m the broken woman who turns to alcohol to drown out the pain and chaos and the one who eventually realises that she’s actually drowning herself.

I’m the creative woman who delights in cooking – discovering new recipes and making them up, throwing elaborate dinner parties inspired by exotic cuisines. I’m the brave woman who pursues her goals in the hazy darkness of the morning, taking tiny step after step towards that far off star. I’m the one who finds stillness now invigorating, sleep a welcome respite and insight sparkling between the layers of her dreams.

What can a number capture? The complexity behind these years is unable to be reduced. I am the sum of my experiences – but also so much more.

There’s a Jungian idea that we are a community of selves stretching forth through time – past, present and future. It certainly rings true for me. Past versions whisper and ask us to remember. Future iterations plead for us to choose carefully and hold space for something greater. We imperfectly inhabit the Present, with its siren call to ‘pay attention’.

Life, in all its disappointments and catastrophes, is ever a gift. I’m thankful for the lessons, the chances to be brave, the invitation to love. 36 is a hopeful number – there are still many more experiences to be had, but an infinite number to be grateful for.