No Man's Land

Entering your mid-to-late 30s is entering No Man's Land.

There is a newfound isolation that hits from nowhere. You were living life oblivious to what was waiting around the corner, ignorant to the inevitable reality that awaits — and all of a sudden you are stuck out there on your own in this new territory.

The friendships you took for granted in your 20s, those you relied so heavily on in your early 30s, may still exist — but they appear to exist on the border of this new land you seem to have inhabited. Those midweek plans that used to get you through the working week: the dinners, the glasses of wine, the debriefs, the shared dating traumas. Now you are lucky to squeeze in a home-cooked dinner before bed after a long day at work.

You see new relationships form, houses are bought, children are had. What was once a solid collaboration between friends is replaced by a tighter family unit of which you are not a part. Priorities have shifted all around you and it's no one's fault — but the more those priorities shift, the more you find yourself being pushed further and further out into this isolated No Man's Land. A land where you observe loved ones from afar, catch up on life from the sidelines. You may get a glimpse through social media, you may get an embrace at a wedding, but even these become fewer and fewer as you slip further into your 30s.

It's no one's fault. It appears to be the pattern of life that everyone slips into — but when your life isn't following that particular pattern, it feels more and more like you are out there on your own. You don't feel anger; there is no ill intent in any of it. You don't even necessarily feel sadness, because there is a shared joy with those you love — you want them to be happy. But there is perhaps a misplaced emptiness that you can't quite put your finger on. You can't quite figure out where to go from here. You don't want to lose those you were close to any more than you already have, yet you know that life as you knew it may never be the same again.

There is a grief attached to that. But you can't live in that sorrow for too long, because you know you need to find a new route out of this No Man's Land before you become trapped in it.

It is easy to pull back, easy to withdraw as you try to convince others — and yourself — that you are happy with the new norm. There is a difference, though, between being content in your own company and being trapped in it. To be content is the ability to recognise when you feel alone and to reach out to others when it becomes too much. To be trapped is to fester in solitude until you are unable to see when you might need help getting out.

It's important to recognise that No Man's Land exists, and that we can all find our way in there. What's more important is that we prepare a route out — so no one has to stay in there too long.