When I was 20 I had great expectations of where I would be when I turn 30. I would own a house, I would be in a steady relationship, and I would finally have clear skin.
Fast forward 10 years, I am single, live in a rented basement and still do not have clear skin. PLUS living through a worldwide pandemic where we can’t leave the house, I did not see that one coming.
I thought I might have been able to stop using the term winging at life by now and had a better understanding on where my life was heading.
However I try and call people using my cell and wonder why it does not dial, 4 times before I realized it was a calculator.
When I was 20, I thought my clumsiness would gradually get better and I would just learn how to walk, however here I am at 30 and more clumsier than ever. My friends from both sides of the ocean do not even bat an eye lid when I trip on air, or loose my shoes walking up the stairs or walk into the one table in our enormous lobby at work. Someone announced recently they wanted to do air yoga as our next team building session to which someone just said, but let’s leave Laura at home and I was not even offended.
If you ask any of my friends, they will tell you that I was not looking forward to turning 30 and I was a tad dramatic. I even asked my mother if she accidentally skipped ahead on one of my birthdays and I would remain 29 for another year.
I feel that one day I was young and free and the next day I suddenly have a favorite grocery store and even worse I have a favorite reusable bag.
I had a discussion with my therapist about it as well. She said “So you think that, your life is about to come to an end as you know it, because you are turning 30?” I could see she was internally rolling her eyes at me. She went on to explain that when the Millennium happened, everyone thought the world was going to end, but they woke up on January 1st and everything was fine. She said this was the same for my 30th, I would wake up and it would all be fine.
It took someone to compare my 30th birthday to the Millennium for me to start wanting to celebrate it.
Now I must be clear, the reason why I was struggling to turn 30 was not because I considered myself getting old, however grey hair I have might think differently, here is why:
- I struggled to not compare myself to people I know who own houses, have successful jobs, in long term relationships etc etc. I thought I really should have achieved more in my life by now. It took a big internal fight with myself to snap out of it and realize that I took a risk at 27 and started my life again by moving countries which not many people can say they have done. It was something I chose to do, chose for a reason, and (took 2 years to realize) my greatest achievement in my life so far.
- That I have taken life for granted. Where has the past 30 years of my life gone, and how quick is the next 30 years going to go?
In the age of social media and FOX News it is a little too easy to wallow about turning 30, But lets face it, comparing myself to sparkly celebrities is a tad unrealistic expectation.
One of my favorite ‘self help’ books is The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F**k by Mark Manson. The most helpful thing I took away from the book was how you measure your happiness. Funnily enough I discovered that WE choose how we measure our happiness. For example, no amount of wealth (even though some helps) or successful job titles will make me as happy as seeing my friends/family after a long amount of time or being able to help someone that really needed you.
So stop fucking around. Get your fucks together. And here, allow me to fucking show you.– Quote by Mark Manson
So every time I spiral about getting a year older, I think back to this article (read here) and how I need to stop comparing myself to everyone around me, and just do what makes me happy.
So here is s to turning 30, still winging at life and wishing to hear about Brexit in the news again. You do you girl.