In the 1970s, the German novelist Christa Wolf wrote a letter to her friend and fellow author Lew Kopelew, which included these lines: “One stands quite comfortably between all fronts, and must come to understand that this is, in fact, the only possible place to be.” The fronts Wolf was referring to were the Soviet Union and the west, the GDR and West Germany, the politics of the cold war – but I believe the idea resonated with her personally, as she was then too, in the middle of her life.

There is a certain irony and wit in those lines. Standing between all fronts can mean you don’t have to choose – a relief, for some. Or it can mean you never arrive anywhere, neither here nor there. At worst, it marks a person with no standpoint, no stable position. Lost in foggy ground.

Being a millennial has always felt something like that. So does turning 40. Statistically, half my life is behind me. What lies ahead is uncertain territory – and for many of my peers, myself included, 40 is a terrifying number, because no matter how we bend it, 40 is not the new 30. Forty is 40

Weeks before my birthday, my best friend called to check in. You ready? she asked. And I replied with a shaky: Yes. I’m glad these 30s are finally over. I grew a lot, learned a lot, but it was exhausting. I hope this new decade will be calmer and less of a dance in the in-between, I said.

Over the past years, especially the second half of my 30s, my life has felt defined by transition: leaving a marriage, moving alone from Berlin to Istanbul with two suitcases, starting over professionally and privately, learning to live entirely on my own again in an unfamiliar place. It was both scary and exciting – but for a long........

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