Thoughts on Thirty

I am admittedly one of those people who fears aging and therefore, birthdays. It may have started on my seventeenth birthday when my dog died unexpectedly. Perhaps it left a touch of PTSD. Or maybe it was when my Intro to Public Health professor wrote the year 2068 on the board — the year we would likely die according to life expectancy — and the reality of my own death fell upon me like a forceful waterfall, crushing me. Cue quarter life crisis. Regardless of when or how this fear grew in me, it did. With the temps cooling and the leaves changing, comes my anxious awaiting of October 17th. Start me a Versed drip and turn the calendar page, please!

My mom has always been grateful for each birthday she is given. Why hasn’t that been instilled in me? I have friends and family who treat me like a princess on my birthday. I get the most thoughtful and generous gifts. Last year, four of my best friends flew thousands of miles to be with me on my day! But is it the gift of time?? No.

We’ve all fallen down the “I want my first baby by 35 so I’ll need to get pregnant at 34 but I want to be married for a year and be engaged for a year and date for 2 years so I have to meet him right now" rabbit hole, amiright? Also, I took Maternity Nursing class! The risk for poor health results for mom and baby just start shooting up after 30! The fear is real, my friends. 

I care about nutrition so much because I don’t want to get sick and die young. I am morally opposed to naps because it wastes precious time. I am deeply bothered by celebrating holidays too early. I will not enjoy anything pumpkin flavored until it is officially fall and I damn well won’t think about Christmas until after Thanksgiving! Macy’s had Christmas stuff up mid-September and I firmly believe whoever was behind that should be crucified. Why are you rushing time? 

Now that I’ve explained some reasons why I hate birthdays and am dreading turning 30, I will explain why it is completely irrational, I know I’m crazy, and why I am lucky and stoked to turn 30.

Am I writing this to convince myself? For the most part, yes.

First of all, I’m lucky to be alive. Worrying about getting older is outrageous and horribly insensitive when there’s so many people in the world fighting for their lives and when there are lives taken too early. And I’ve lived a pretty fortunate life so YAY to celebrating 30 years of greatness.

I know for older folk, 30 is SO young, right? But remember when you were 9 and you thought you’d get married and have babies when you were 23? And you thought your teacher was so old but she was actually 30? And Lady Gaga was an icon by 25, 13 year olds are competing in the Olympics, Mark Zuckerberg launched Facebook when he was 20, and Malala Yousafzai won a Nobel Peace Prize at age 17. So, ya, sometimes 30 feels old.

But “success is perspectival,” says Joshua Fields Millburn of The Minimalists. I’m turning 30 and I don’t have a record label, a gold medal, or a Fortune 500 company, but I wasn’t trying for those things. I do have two bachelors degrees, have been to all but 5 states, have a good career and great girl friends, and a really cute dog. Is that success? Of course it is. 

I feel like I’m no longer finding myself, becoming myself. I am myself. I’ve become me. Sure, I’ll evolve a bit over time, but nothing like what I’ve done already. And I think I’ve done a pretty damn good job so far.  I’m still growing, of course. Always, keep growing. Ryan Nicodemos, the other half of The Minimalists, says if you’re not growing in life, you are dying. You are just living out your days.

My 30 years of life experience has brought me some other wisdom, too:

I’ve learned to love the in-between. Please, I beg you, do not wait until a certain point (to get the job, to make the move, to meet the someone) to be happy. Being happy now means finding the importance in, making the best of, and not just tolerating but thoroughly enjoying the time it takes you to get that thing you’re working towards, waiting for, dreaming of. Because really, isn’t life made up of so much more of those in-betweens than not? Enjoy the process.

I say this to remind myself. I live in the future so often. I’m a list maker, a planner, a dreamer. I literally can’t sleep sometimes thinking about something that’s happening in a month or a year. It’s important to keep these dreams in mind in order to reach them but at some point, enough is enough. Sit back and enjoy the present. That future will come and then you can sit back and enjoy that, presently.

I’m trying to give less fucks. Or at least be more picky about what I give a fuck about. Sometimes, it is important to care. At other times, things just nag at you; don’t let you sleep at night. Maybe there’s nothing you can do to change it. Maybe the only option is to let go. Those are the things I’m trying not to care about anymore. Let myself free; let myself sleep. Sometimes it takes some soul searching to realize what to do: care, not care and let go, or modify the thing at hand and reassess. It’s The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up your thoughts, ideas, plans, and relationships. I’m trying to clear out that mess for the next decade and not carry those things over. You shouldn’t wait for a new month or year or decade, though. Do it now. But… Better late than never.

This past decade, I’ve spent some time thinking “What the eff am I doing here?” I’m not so wise that I can answer that yet, but when I’m feeling motivated I think “I don’t know, but let’s do it anyway!” In his essay about lessons he’s learned in his first 30 years, Millburn writes: “Giving is living. The best way to live a worthwhile life is simple: continuously grow as an individual and contribute to other people in a meaningful way. Growth and contribution: that’s the meaning of life.” I like this idea. It’s certainly as good an answer as any other. I’m on board.

Thirty will bring education and career changes and lots of travel. I will be out of my comfort zone. Not a toe dip into discomfort zone, but really thrown into the deep end. I should note: I cried in my first swimming lesson when we were told to jump into the deep end. Better luck this time. Let’s be honest, I’ll still cry, but this time I get to fix it with alcohol. But keep your boxed wine. I’m a grown-ass adult now. Pour me a bourbon.

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Right now I am sitting in an Adirondack chair in my parents’ back yard in Massachusetts, typing with very poor ergonomics because there’s a large dog on my lap. I’ve been enjoying sunny mornings in this yard for a week shy of 30 years. That, and so much more, makes me a pretty lucky lady. Life is good. Here’s to many more birthdays I am fortunate enough to complain about.

I have loved. I have laughed, grown, and contributed. And for that I am grateful.

I have hated. I have hurt, damaged, and lied. And for that I am sorry.

I have lived. And for that I bear no regrets.

[Joshua Fields Millburn]

I’ve turned to The Minimalists for help cleaning out my closet and also, for the meaning of life. Seriously, If you don’t know who they are, check them out:  theminimalists.com

To read Joshua Fields Millburn’s essays on turning 30:
http://www.theminimalists.com/30/
http://www.theminimalists.com/30lessons/