Hit 30, realised I had probably done as much in my chosen field as I was likely to.

Got sad, considered changing careers and slowly started getting more frantic about seizing my Big Chance. In the process I discovered I'm unspeakably awkward and horrible at networking. Developed a dislike for great networkers being Machiavellian shits.

Didn't get my Big Chance.

Turned 35, had long since stopped counting birthdays, and then one day realised that imperceptibly something had changed.

I wasn't sad anymore. At least not noticably sadder than anybody else if I took the time to look. I'd come to terms with my crippling imposter syndrome, and was free of the quixotic trappings of my equally crippling Dunning Kruger. Read Jon Robson's psychopath test and decided I probably wasn't a sociopath either - I was just a bloke in his mid 30s.

Realised I should stop self diagnosing psychological conditions via the internet.

I have a great family, a good job, I wake up every morning and genuinely look forwards to spending my day doing what I do. I still harbour secret dreams of world domination, but they exist withing a framework of reassuringly tedious goals, like making sure I have enough clean pants and socks for the week.

Learned to work the washing machine. Still don't like inviting people to go for a coffee.