My 30th birthday is on January 6. Let’s quickly look at where I thought I would be today in years past.
Things I thought I’d have at 30 when I was 5: gray hair and grandchildren. (Read: 30 seemed really, really, really old.)
Things I thought I’d have at 30 when I was 15: a husband, a home in the country, a kid or two, a good college education, a garden, and a horse in the backyard. (Read: I wanted my mother’s life, plus a horse.)
Things I thought I’d have at 30 when I was 25: a boyfriend, the beginnings of a career, less debt, more money, a newer car, and good health insurance. (Read: I will be a settled, responsible adult in five years, so I might as well have my fun now!)
And here I am, three months from turning 30.
And what do I have?
Amazing, wonderful, too-good-to-be-true friends. Two ridiculously handsome nephews and one breathtakingly beautiful niece. A set of parents I cannot imagine living without, still, even at this stage of adulthood. Two sisters who humor, humble, and bolster me. Brother in laws who adore and torment me as if I was their own kid sis. An enormous and overly furry cat who always greets me happily at the front door.
A lovely, cozy apartment, all to myself, filled with all my own things, decorated just to my liking.
A strong self image. A strong, supple body. An endlessly fascinating and fulfilling yoga practice. A compelling voice on the page. A ready laugh, an easy likability, a firm sense of my moral center.
A nice, solid resume of professional success. A few bylined freelance articles. A blog that boasts more readers than just my immediate family.
I have much.
Nearing 30, I have the confidence to say “no” to anyone and anything that does not serve me well. I have the courage to take risks, to embrace challenges, to endure the rockier road. I have scars that remind me not to make the same mistakes of battles past.
I have fewer questions about who I am in the world and more concern about how I can better the world around me.
I have stamps in my passport; I have pictures and mementos from another land.
I have a seasoned set of practiced skills to deal with change.
I just realized the other day that I actually have wrinkles—several, in fact.
I have a wonderful dermatologist to help with those wrinkles, a good 401(k), great health insurance, and a reliable 2006 Subaru that still feels brand spanking new, despite the year-plus of monthly payments that remind me the car is most certainly not new.
Nearly 30, I have life insurance—even if my life, on paper, is worth next to nothing and my beneficiaries are my parents.
I have the burgeoning beginnings of a very personal, very eclectic art collection, now neatly framed and hung on my white apartment walls.
I have a closet full of shoes scuffed from countless dance floors.
I have his letters.
I have memories of him and of the other handful of men I have loved.
I have many memories.
I may not have the husband, nor the little ones tottering underfoot, nor the home or the horse. (I gave up on the garden long ago after 8 years of city living.) I haven’t found a single gray hair yet. I haven’t ridded myself of all debt. I haven’t even figured out how best to spend and save my hard-earned money.
But, I do have faith, and hope, and a ceaseless optimism that sometimes keeps me up at night, as I lay in bed and wonder when I will meet a man to share my life with and how I will ever be able to afford the life I want and where I will, finally, decide to plant my roots and start a home, a family, that next great leg of adulthood.
I have, at this age, at this point, so much more than I ever could have imagined when I was 5 or 15 or even 25.
Because most of all, I have me—with all my overly self-critical and fantastically creative and sweetly caring and dorky, silly quirks. That wonderful woman—the one who works hard and loves hard, who gives earnestly, who aims to live life honestly, who juggles so many passions and interests and questions and goals—she is all my own.
It has taken me until now, three months to 30, to realize I have never considered myself so lucky as I am today.
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In writing this, I was reminded of a Joy Harjo poem my mother introduced me to back in high school. It is called “She Had Some Horses.” It is rather fitting to include here, in more ways than one.
There was something really magical and exiting and promising about turning 30. You have captured so many of the emotions I felt when rounding that corner. You’ve had a good life so far … but, I can feel it in my bones that it’s only going to get better.
Thank you, my friend. I can’t help but think the best really is still ahead.
OK, first things first, you are SO beautiful! It’s so lovely to see a picture and add a face to the blog I’ve come to love reading
Thanks for including that!
Second, great post. Your writing shines through as usual and you have some wonderful insight. I appreciate the honesty and depth of your reflections on turning 30. I’ve got a few years to go, but I’m sure before I know it I’ll be writing a post looking back on what I’ve got at that age too!
Keep it up, lady. All of it
Aww, thanks, Rachel. It’s felt like a long, tiring road to get here, but I am so glad for the journey behind me, so eager for the journey ahead.
Beautiful. The picture, the words, the post. (Even if I am more than a little envious of you for not having found a grey hair.)
The whole gray hair thing is weird. Because both of my sisters founds grays in their 20s, as did my mother. But, yeah. I keep looking and keep finding nothin’! I won’t complain.
Such a beautiful outlook and positive perspective. I loved turning 30 myself and didn’t dread it one bit. But I actually do already have white hairs. Well since my early 20s that is.
I hope 30 and all the coming years bring you more happiness in your life.
I felt a sense of dread about the big 3-0 when I turned 29, but now? I kind of can’t wait. Thanks for the kind sentiments, Marie.
What a beautiful post, as always. You have a wonderful way with words which will no doubt improve as time passes. You have that too. That is a rarity and a gift. And I love the pic!
One of the best parts of aging: most things improve as time passes. At least, that’s what I’m finding.
Thanks for the sweet comment, Nicole!
that is a fabulous picture! and i second all the jealousy of no gray hair. under the dye, my hair is just shot with gray at age 29. scary.
as always, you manage to come up with a nice, healthy dose of perspective when i need it most. thanks!
I’ve also never dyed my hair. Not even highlights. However, if I started finding greys left and right, I’m pretty sure I’d be headed to the salon in a flash!
You are a beauty, Miss! Or Ms?
29 was the worst birthday of my life. Because I was almost 30 and had accomplished nothing (in my head). But by the time I got to 30 I was fine. The rest have been too fast to think about and they only get better.
And that poem is perfect for every phase of life. Thanks for sharing it!
No “miss” or “ms.” here! I am a lady, thank you very much.
I always said that 29 was going to be my big blow out birthday so that when 30 came I wouldn’t care. But, yeah, 29 sucked. Majorly. So I already know 30 is going to be way better than last year!
When I turned 30 I panicked because I was not married yet. Which led to a series of bad decisions. I’m so happy to read your post because you are not in the place where I was. Although you pictured yourself married at 30, you are filled with joy at what you do have. I wish I would have found yoga in my 20′s. I didn’t find it until I turned 36….and THEN I was able to let go of expectations about where my life should be.
Your 30′s are going to be amazing and filled with wonderful new experiences! I hope you blog in this little space about them, as we, your faithful readers, will wait with baited breath to see what this incredible decade will bring you! Bravo for being so comfortable in your own skin, for what lovely skin it is!
Michelle, your comments are just priceless. Always so sweet and heartfelt and hopeful. THANK YOU. Let’s make it our goal in this next decade to go do some yoga together!
sounds to me like you have a very rich, and full life, nearing on 30. may the next decade bring you as much joy!
Here’s hoping.
Muchas gracias, amiga!
You are absolutely beautiful, on the inside and out! I love your blog and I love who you are. Just wanted to tell you
Oh, my! Too sweet! Thank you, Lucy. Very, very much.
So inspiring and uplifting. Thank you for sharing some your optimism.
Speaking of inspiring… I owe you, my own source of inspiration, an e-mail.
You summed it up so beautifully – what may be going through a young woman’s mind, heart and soul, hopes and faith before the third X kicks in. I kind of couldn’t wait to leave my 20′s behind and start a new decade. I always say that Bikram Yoga was my 30th birthday present and the best I ever got, because I took my first Bikram class 5 days after my 30th b’day, which was 1,5 year ago. Things were going uphill from then on and I knew this would be a good decade!
I’m sure the best awaits you too, and I wish you so much joy and happinness
ps: hmm….now gray here here either, but because I’m blonde I can’t even see it either…
Bikram is definitely the best birthday present ever! I know for sure that I am going to treat myself to a good, long, sweaty class on the day of my 30th.
I missed your blog while I was away. I love this post, it is so true that you view ages so differently at different ages. And I love your perspective, you are always so spot on.
Thanks, Susan. It’s funny how drastically perspective changes, isn’t it?? I vividly remember thinking I’d be married with like four kids and a house and 10 horses when I was like 10 years old. Ohhh, how off I was!!!
Life NEVER goes as planned. That’s one realization I had over the last decade.
You are lovely – from what I’ve read about you and from that picture that you posted up there and I am sure all the things that you’re yet missing in your life will shop up at some point
You are sweet, san. Thank you. Life is never what we think it will be. But, usually, it’s BETTER than we’d even imagined.
I love this post. You might not be living the sort of life you always thought you would have at this point, but life is definitely amazing none the less.
Thanks, Mandy! For the kind comment and for stopping by!
Well I turn 40 next week. Oy vey!
Hey, 40s are the new 30s, right? I just hope 30s aren’t the new 20s. Because I’m really dond with the 20s.
If I am anywhere close to where you are right now in five years (when I will be nearing 30), I will consider myself to be a very fortunate woman. I can only hope to be so optimistic and so happy.
And you are positively stunning.
I am sending all optimism, all hope, all happiness, your way, Vie. Tight hug.
You’re so beautiful!!!
“I have fewer questions about who I am in the world and more concern about how I can better the world around me.” I love this. This is what I want for myself when I am 30
And you are so sweet. Thanks, lady!!
This is probably the best post I have read since I could remember, and I read a lot of blog posts. I write about the bumpy road that is age 20 to 30. It’s such an odd decade. The only true constant is transition. I’m on the verge of 30 and I’ve never been so excited. Sometimes I take a glance back and I’m shocked I’ve come so far. I’ve lost homes, a husband to a divorce, and my identity and gained love, some healthy mature pounds measured by confidence, purpose and self-appreciation. Autonomously me. Thanks for spreading the soon-to-be-30 optimism!
You give me optimism. I hope that I can embrace my life half as warmly as you have in the next five years.
Oh my, that was beautiful. I just had to say I so enjoyed that.