Age definitely isn't just a number

Things not to say to your friend who is mum to a pre-schooler and a brand new baby:

“What, you're only 31?!”

Insert full-on belly laughs from both of us as she contemplated the fact that I had implied she looked older than her years, and I decided not to even bother trying to justify my comment. To clarify, she doesn't look older, she looks 30-ish. She seems older, in a good way. At work she knows so much, in life she seems to have it sorted. A couple of days ago we went for lunch. She had brushed her hair, put on make-up and was wearing an outfit that she'd clearly considered. I had brushed my hair, and picked out scrappy jeans, a baggy jumper and inappropriate shoes to throw on in my rush to drive my kids 65 miles to their dad's. I thought that she may have been older than her years as she seems to have her life together.

Age interests me. A lot. It's interesting that some people attempt to defy and deny the ageing process, while others would give anything to have the opportunity to grow old.

When I was younger I assumed that I would never reach the next mile stone. 25 and 30 both seemed impossibly far away. I thought my mental health would inevitably swallow me whole, like quicksand. It felt as though the harder I fought against it, the closer I got to the edge of the precipice. As a consequence, I never made grand plans or had life goals. I never thought I'd make it to the next big birthday.

When I left college, I went to university. I studied, worked, travelled, drank more than I should, subsisted on coffee, and wrote some essays. I graduated with a first, but had no idea what to do with my life because I had no ambition or direction. And that was because I thought the black dog called depression was going to eat me alive.

Age isn't just a number, age is an absolute privilege. I am glad for my grey hairs hidden away under the dye, and the frown lines and laughter lines because they mean I've lived. They mean I'm getting older. 34, 44, 54, 64, 74. Here's hoping. That's forty more years to cram in as much living as possible. I've met 60-year-olds who are single and carefree, and who hop from one adventure to another. And I've met 20-year-olds with worry lines etched into their skin because they've already lived through enough to fill three lifetimes.

I've got friends in their twenties, thirties, forties, fifties, sixties. They all bring something different to my life, and I hope I bring something to theirs. Some I've travelled with, trained with, cried with, laughed with, lived with. Some are in similar stages of life, others have similar backgrounds, some have seen me have babies and get married and then grow up. Some have been surrogate mums over the years, others still have loved me when I thought the world was caving in around me. Friends of different ages have so much to offer: insight, perspective, experience, innocence, stability, shelter, enthusiasm, different cultural references, tough love, brutal honesty, and a bucketful of unconditional love.

Don't get me wrong, age is the boring stuff too: responsibility, council tax, rent, pension contributions, washing up, ironing. But it's the good stuff too: choice, money, relative freedom, possibility, days of fun at the beach and going home late with nobody to answer to, travel, dancing on tables, birthday cake for breakfast. Age has also given me the confidence to walk away from the things that aren't good enough for me. A bad friend? Before I would have been wondering what I had done wrong, why they didn't like me enough, why I wasn't enough. Now, goodbye 'friend'. Don't come back.

I've also tried to stop letting my mental health chase me down. When it hurtles towards me now, I stand stock still and let it do its thing. Age has taught me to live with the mental health rollercoaster. I've studied, trained, graduated, become a mum, all with it lurking in the shadows, then sinewing its way into my life at intervals. It ebbs and flows. Age has made me focus on the here and now. This has been a good week full of absolute belters of friends. Age has also made me come to realise that I can live with the mental health and work around it at the moment. Roll on 35, 40 and all the other milestones because age is a privilege and I am grateful.