Nearly six full months after turning 30, I’m beginning to finally celebrate it. I wasn’t dreading my 30s at all; in fact, I spent most of my 20s looking forward to it! The twenties were for learning and failing and being poor and all that shit, while the 30s are for having my life together! No more hot mess express for this lady!
I remember reading an article – whether it was in a magazine or online, I don’t remember, but it doesn’t much matter – about how the 30s are the best decade yet. I read about job security, self esteem, financial success, and more; I remember thinking, “well DANG, 30 sounds awesome! 30 and I are gonna be GOOD friends. Let’s do this 3-0.”
It was likely my expectation that all those things would suddenly fall in my lap the second I turned 30 that really set me up for disappointment. June 18th, 2017 came and went and damnit, I was still just the same ol’ me. WTF. Where was the success? The security? The riches and self esteem? All those things I’d been waiting for still seemed so far away.
Job security? Oof, I’m just now starting to figure out what exactly I even want to do.
Self-esteem? Lordy. My pregnancy with sweet C destroyed me. I look in the mirror and do not recognize the body of the woman staring back at me – so obviously I got rid of almost all the mirrors. HA. Because avoidance solves all problems.
Financial success? Hmpf. Ha.
I was so ready to have my shit together, but you know what? I don’t, and that’s okay. These last few months have been spent learning to accept that 30 doesn’t now and has never held magical powers. 30, much like 21 and 23 and 26-29, is going to hold successes and failures, highs and lows. Most days I still feel like a child attempting to raise children – but I’m quickly brought back to reality when I see our mortgage statement or life insurance policy. Only adults have mortgages and life insurance, so dangit, I’m an ADULT.
I don’t know what these next 9.5 years of my 30s will bring. I’ll probably get myself another unflattering haircut, add a load more stretchmarks when we decide to have a third baby, still eat raw cookie dough, and try and try and more times than not, probably fail.
But you know what? I’m gonna keep going. I’ve got a responsibility to show these boys that their mama is strong and brave and embraces anything thrown at her. I’m gonna keep dreaming and trying and getting back up when I fall. And maybe, just maybe, by the time I hit 40, I’ll have it all figured out. #canigetanamen?
I would love to hear from the 30 year olds! Do you feel like you have it “together” yet? Did you have unrealistic expectations about turning 30, too? Please feel free to reach out in the comments!