On Thirty
Finally, I’ve reached the age where certain expectations of me have been shed. I don’t own a house, I don’t have a child, I don’t have an engagement ring, I just barely purchased a respectable vehicle. And I couldn’t be more relieved. Almost everything I thought I’d have by now, based on almighty society’s teachings, is not here. And as I suspected, life can continue without any of it.
Photo by Nick Keating
Now, I have the freedom to fully embrace the “cool aunt” vibe I’ve been trying to cultivate for the past ten years. Now, when I tell people how old I am as I sit astride my baby blue mountain bike, they know I mean business. Doing adventurous things in your thirties is so much cooler than doing them in your twenties. You’re more seasoned. You’re more mature. You’ve done a risk assessment three times over and still chose danger.
But simultaneously, your years of experimentation have led you to some undeniable truths about yourself and the risks you can no longer tolerate. For instance, there is only one deodorant on this Earth that I will happily use. I must take showers at night. I can’t drink alcohol in social situations lest I become the blueberry girl from Willy Wonka. If I don’t have half & half in my coffee I will be a very grumpy goose. If there is too much noise, I can’t. If I see roadkill, it will likely ruin my day. They sound small, but I didn’t know these things about myself five years ago, and having learned them helps me feel like a better friend to myself.
I won’t say there aren’t moments when I feel like an incredible, colossal failure for not fulfilling the duties of my twenties. Maybe it turns out I did not understand the assignment. What was I put here for again? To adhere to a prescribed timeline? To save up money to spend after I’ve served my allotted years to capitalism? My heart squeaks every time I watch a friend snuggle their baby or cook a meal in their beautiful house. “We missed the boat!” it yells, “How could you do this to us?!”
I haven’t completely relinquished the ideals of family life in the country or trips overseas and enough money to pay for a reasonable amount of massages. Those ideals are so deeply seeded in the recesses of my brain that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to uproot them. And maybe they shouldn’t be. I can still clearly see the value of marriage, offspring, and the big questions those milestones evoke. Forget my mountain bike; sometimes those pursuits feel like the most valiant of all.
Photo by Nick Keating
But I’ve gotten pretty close to the shared dream we were all told to want. I’ve lived in stunning places and met stunning people. I get to have a garden, snuggle my dog, and sit around big tables to eat dinner with friends. I have a roof over my head and enough in the bank. I feel loved and overall, good.
It’s tempting to measure what you do and don’t have against your growing age. But if you can peel your attention away from scrutinizing all the choices you’ve already made, turn around and stare out into the great abyss of your future and wonder what will show up next. Because really, it could be anything.