The Reckoning Year: Examining Thirty Six

The third decade of my life presents three opportunities to harness the power of three. First, there was 33, and now I revisit this same energy but with more depth at 36. While the power of three maintains itself throughout this decade, thirty-three acts as an opener, representing my introduction. In that year, my purpose became clearer to me and I arrived at thirty-four truly knowing that my life meant something in this big, big world. 

Joyice speaks often about how she processes periods of development or maturation in a series of three-stranded cords: beginnings, transitions, endings. Now that I am here, I see what she means. About six months ago, I turned 36, and the spirit of transition had fallen upon me in the most clear-eyed way. If 33 was about purpose, 36 is certainly about vision for me. 

REALIZING THE CLARITY OF THREE

At 33, I entered what I still call my Jesus Year—a transformative period that felt like a rebirth. If this energy revisits us again differently at 36, and I believe that it does, then the time has come for my ego to die. Not the Good Ego that supports my sense of self or self-worth, as I traveled that road over the past three years, but the one referred to as the False Ego. To be clear, this is not the kind of falseness born in deception or false pretenses to sell to other people. Not the kind of falseness rooted in being fake or hiding behind masks to lie to ourselves. This is different and more layered: a spiritual journey causing me to distill “the false” that can sneakily live in “the faith.” Unless you’re careful, it’s possible to use your faith and youthful idealism to over-identify with who you want to be to the point that it blinds you from who you actually are. Thankfully, this blinding effect had not fully robbed me of my sight but I came to notice my rose-colored glasses had caused me to see myself differently than I am. So, in these past seven months, and for the remainder of my thirty-sixth year, I am occupied with sharpening my tinted vision.

APPRECIATING MY COMMUNITY

As you can imagine, making the attempts to come to peace with who I have been, who I am, and who I want to be has been difficult. This kind of self-evaluation has brought on a series of depressive episodes, self-doubt, loneliness, defeat, and confusion. For the motivation to muster through these painful scenes, I accredit my village, who come through for me, when I am unable to handle it all. In a particular exchange this year, something humbling happened: their showing up for me made me examine how effectively I show up for them. Their lives did not stop just to support me, but it’s possible that I did not allow myself to see that because I was too busy “needing a friend” than being a friend. Maybe the feeling is intensified by how critically I have needed every bit of pouring out that they have invested, but it is only at 36, that I am this dazzled by all the goodness they bring. Sincerely, I really do not know where I would be today without my people. 

My village consists of God, my children, my closest friends, my family {specifically my mother and sister,} my lover, my mentor, my therapist, and my spiritual guide. They all have been essential—each one of them present in my life on purpose. It would please me to trust that they share that same sentiment of mine. Do not get me wrong, I am not confessing to being solely a “taker” in my relationships, but I considered this opportunity for mirror-image reflection to see myself and evolve to being more action-oriented with my villagers. This new line of sight is also incredibly timely because the challenges that tend to occur in the third decade of life are now less about damage control from our younger years, but more natural or material matters of life: aging, illness, family planning and infertility, financial security, empty nesting, and even death. The kind of inevitable matters I know are coming, of which my intentionality will create opportune moments for me to return the favor. 

REFLECTING ON MY MOTHERHOOD JOURNEY

This year, my eldest son turns 18, marking the end of his childhood and a cherished chapter. As I reflect, I see both the struggles and triumphs of being a young mother—balancing love with discipline. As a teen mom, I clung to survival, yearning for a husband to “complete” our family, to bring stability and structure. My reluctance to embrace my single-mother identity “in faith” kept me from fully inhabiting my role. Yet, my son’s growth into an extraordinary young man speaks to the unwavering support of my village and the grace of God. Our recent conversations, though, have brought to light areas where I fell short as a mother.

Now, with my younger son, just six, my approach has matured along with me. I’ve shifted from focusing on my own needs to truly seeing his. I value his emotional health and prioritize authenticity, vulnerability, and acceptance, teaching him to understand his emotional universe. As a young mother, I was wrapped up in filling roles and spaces, but now, as a more experienced mother, I am more child-centered. It’s taken years to learn that parenting evolves with each stage, and one mark of great parenting is attunement—something I now practice, hoping it benefits my youngest son.

While I own my magic and mistakes, there are still times I wish I had seen myself more clearly back then. Motherhood now feels different—not only because I’m twice the age I was before but also due to a shifting social landscape. I’ve grown gracefully, driven by both necessity and intention. I lean into the fact that life is best lived in the present, but understood by reflecting on the past. This is the transforming power of reflection–a hindsight vision that allows you to see more expansively and more clearly. I am seeing myself–really seeing myself–and the images in my mental mirror do not always reflect who I want to be and what I want to see. So, I am refocusing the lens starting with my own ego and identity, especially my aspiration for a healthy marriage and what I made “being a wife” mean.

CHECKING MY FALSE EGO

This year, I’ve been intensely focused on identity, learning to balance my support for others with prioritizing my own needs—even indulging in moments of selfishness. To be honest, I’ve sometimes made impulsive choices purely for pleasure, allowing myself to enjoy life without apology. While enjoyable, they do not come without cost. Still, I’m determined not to cling to past versions of myself, so I’ve adopted a new approach:  I AM [now] what I DO [now]. Just because something once defined me doesn’t mean it should continue to. I’ve returned to my core values, reassessing what truly resonates with who I am today. Challenging myself, I am selecting those values that feel true to who I am, word against deed. It’s been a humbling process of identity-checking the difference between the idealized and realized versions of myself, and the validity therein. 

As a mother, my children are the ones who can best validate my so-called improved communication, though I rarely solicit their feedback. 

As a partner, I’ve recognized that some of my exes’ feedback—that I could be critical—holds a mirror to my own tendencies toward judgment over compassion. 

As a friend, I bear some responsibility for my loved ones’ loneliness when I have knowingly stood at a distance or only offered a convenient level of support. 

For the impact I hope to make in this world, imagine my surprise to realize that my actions misalign.

Why, as a mother, had I been more interested in how others view my communication than in how my children see me, when I speak to them daily?

Why, as a partner, had I focused on flaws instead of embracing imperfections?

Why, as a friend, had I not shown up more for those closest to me?

This self-inquiry has been a powerful reality check, urging me to show up as who I strive to be in each role.

Social media has normalized augmentation, inundating users with a range of filters whose enhancing qualities skew reality for onlookers. While a filter or two may seem harmless, the temptation to intentionally alter how we present ourselves has greater implications when the idea carries over from our social media persona to our personal identity and character. At thirty-six, I feel a reckoning—a call to remove my rose-colored glasses and refocus my vision. In this season, I want to build a legacy rooted in clarity, offering others a true perspective, not one tinted by distortion. This is character work, some of the hardest yet most rewarding self-development processes I have undergone. This year, I’m releasing the idealized version of Vanessa and embracing the more realized, authentic version of her.

CORRECTING MY ROSE-COLORED GLASSES

This newfound reckoning is manifesting in every part of my life, especially my love life, where singlehood has lingered longer than I’d expected. It’s been challenging to embrace my identity as a single woman while still holding a desire to be partnered. It’s not that singlehood is inherently hard—though it can be—but rather that I’m balancing two identities: the one I live and the one I hope for. Being single also opens the door to well-meaning yet unsolicited advice. A close friend recently affirmed that I am already a wife, intending to reassure me of a role I’ve held before and might hold again. But that sentiment feels unsatisfying because it isn’t my current reality.

I’m not dismissing faith, but I’m refocusing to save myself from delusion and distortion. I agree with my friend’s optimism—I do have the qualities to be a wife. But with my new cleared-eyed perspective, I see that affirmation alone is no confirmation. In reality, the difference between being single and being married is simply someone choosing me as his wife, not wholly my friend’s belief or mine. So, it’s in my best interest to fully acknowledge my singleness and approach dating as a true path forward.

I’m keenly aware of what men and women generally seek in a partner and how these desires align with where they are in life. I understand both the blessings and burdens someone would encounter in partnering with me. I mention this because, in my late 30s, I’ve realized that dating now often requires us to showcase—and sometimes justify—our past choices, something we may not have considered in our younger years.

For younger women, here’s a heads-up: the notion of living “young, wild, and free” in our 20s comes with a hidden caveat. The shift from dating in your 20s to your 30s brings this stark truth: accountability, often overlooked in one decade, becomes essential to qualify for a relationship in the next. If you find yourself unexpectedly re-entering the dating scene, remember that both you and your date will likely be curious about each other’s journey—and any baggage brought along. This is where a clear, honest self-perception becomes invaluable.

Vulnerable communication is one of the most powerful ways to reveal ourselves to others. Over the years, I’ve honed my storytelling, embracing my truths and learning how to share them openly. Finally, I am comfortable with it, and my story—like everyone’s—is both unique and compelling. After three-plus decades of life, most of us have gathered a blend of wise and questionable choices, along with mementos—emotional or physical—that bear their mark. This acceptance has helped me replace judgment with curiosity, extending grace to myself. It has also made connections in dating more authentic and fulfilling for those who value the richness of our individual histories.

PASSING THE BATON

Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished. -Lao Tzo

The power of three brings both clarity and growth. We start as a single, unexamined self, but over time, we gain the perspective to see both past and present versions, like two reflections. If we’re willing to sift through these layers—to hold onto what’s real, discard what’s false or no longer true, and refine what needs growth—a third, truer self emerges: our future self. In my 36th year, I’ve embraced this power, shedding the false ego to allow my authentic self to be reborn. My mentor encouraged me to accept what my spirit truly desires: to be a quality person in my rawest, truest form. Acknowledging the presence of subtle self-deception and complacency has only propelled me forward. Choosing to remove the scales from my eyes and rectifying areas in my life that fall outside of the standard I hold for myself is how I have managed and matured through this period of transition.

To the women at a similar turning point, know that your path is guided. Use this moment to understand who you are now. Honest introspection opens the door to progress that isn’t only external. This transition, this crossing from 33 to 36, comes before “the ending” I await at 39 for a reason. Trust the process.

🐢 V.N.Y. 🦋