Decenter Age.
The Decenter Series 1
Hi Pumpkin.
Happy New Month. I can’t believe I couldn’t bring myself to write a single letter to you in February. Gosh!
How’re you? How was your Valentine’s? How have you been? What’s any new exciting things you’ve got going on? Talk to me.
Anyways, I wanna start a series on the many things we have to decenter in our lives. Growing up(and even now sef) we’ve been taught to revolve around certain things, subconsciously or consciously. We make some of these things the nucleus of our being and it truly messes with us in ways we can’t start to fathom.
So the series will be titled DECENTER.
A series about moving the wrong things out of the middle of your life.
Age.
Romance.
Marriage.
Your mom.
Productivity.
Being impressive.
Being “good.”
Being chosen.
Being ahead.
Being on time.
No one asked us if they deserved to be the sun. We just woke up one day and realized our decisions were revolving around them. Our anxiety was revolving around them. Our self-worth was revolving around them.
Somewhere along the way, we outsourced the center of our lives.
This series is about repositioning. It’s about standing in the middle of your own life and asking “Who put this here?” “Why does this get so much power?” “What would happen if I moved it?”
Not everything needs to be destroyed, but everything does need to be examined.
You’re allowed to rearrange your inner furniture. You’re allowed to question inherited timelines. You’re allowed to live from a different center.
Pumpkin, welcome to Decenter.
01 - Decenter Your Age
Let’s start with the one that stalks people quietly.
Age.
You are not “too old.”
You’re not too old to start over.
You’re not too old to go back to school.
You’re not too old to switch industries.
You’re not too old to leave something that is draining you.
You’re not too old to begin again.
Somehow, age stopped being information and became a verdict of what you should be doing and when.
We turned 23 into comparison.
25 into panic.
30 into expiration.
40 into apology.
50 into invisibility.
As if life comes with a hidden timer that starts beeping once you’ve crossed a certain line.
Who told us that certain dreams have age limits? Who decided reinvention has a deadline?
In four years, you will be four years older whether you move or not. Whether you apply or not. Whether you write the book or not. Whether you launch the thing or keep talking about it. Whether you leave or stay.
Time does not pause in respect for your fear. It does not slow down just because you’re unsure. It does not negotiate with hesitation.
So if you are going to age anyway, why not age with evidence?
With courage.
With attempts.
With stories.
With something that proves you chose movement over embarrassment.
Your life does not expire at 30.
Or 40.
Or 50.
Or 80 sef.
It doesn’t expire after one failed attempt.
Or after motherhood.
Or after heartbreak.
Or after people stop clapping for you.
Stop acting like it does.
Age is a measurement, not a moral judgment, or a deadline, or a cage.
And who even knows? The real issue might not be your age.
Maybe it’s the fear of being seen trying. Maybe it’s the ego that wants a guarantee before it moves. Maybe it’s the shame of not being “ahead.” Maybe it’s comparison dressed up as practicality.
But age?
Age is innocent. It has been unfairly centered. Decenter it. Let it sit to the side like background information because that’s just what it is.
Let curiosity take the middle. Let courage take the middle. Let obedience to your own becoming take the middle.
You are not behind, you are simply just becoming.
And that has no expiration date.
So, my love, you are allowed to shift the sun. Let the wrong things dim. Let the right things shine. Let yourself take up the middle.
This is your life. Act like it.
With all my love,
Head Pumpkin, Joké💕