Fuck I’m 30.
That was the event name in my calendar event marking this momentous occasion.
Part of me is in shock that I’ve reached this milestone, while the other has mentally been checking the 30+ boxes on any survey I take.
In true procrastinators fashion, I’m writing this on the eve of my birthday, scrambling to finish before I go to work in the morning. So we’ll see how this goes.
This is a hard birthday because while I’m legally 30, I don’t… biologically (?) turn 30 until my birthday later this year. If you feel like you’ve missed a few chapters, you can go and catch up here.
I’ve always felt this way about big birthdays and I guess birthdays it’s general. Part of me wants to rush the process while my mind spends March, April, and May trying to emotionally catch up. Usually, there has always been some advantage in turning that extra year older.
When you turn 16, it’s getting your license
When you turn 18, it’s buying lotto tickets and getting to gamble
When you turn 21, it’s being able to drink in public places
When you turn 23, you can rent a car without getting scrutinized
But 30? This kind of just feels like speeding up the aging process.
When I was younger, maybe 12 or so, I used to tell my then 30-year-old brother that he was close to death. And according to that logic, well fuck, I’m close to death now too.
The amazing thing is, I feel like my life has just begun. Looking back, maybe that’s why my brother always rolled his eyes whenever I said that.
Looking back
Truthfully, my twenties were a mix of a dream and a nightmare.
My life was blessed with rich experiences, travel, laughter, and friends. I found myself as an adult, said yes to things that scared me, and moved to not one, but two different countries. I became a teacher and left the dreams that I thought were my make or break, behind. Regardless of what was happening, I kept moving forward even when I just wanted to stop.
But I’ve also had some of my darkest days and never-ending stretches. I started consciously living with depression and developed social anxiety in my mid-twenties. Devoid of joy, plastering on a smile for anyone who dared suggest I might be anything other than okay.
20-23
I think your twenties are for learning and growing. I used to think that my teenage years were when all that took place. Then I think back to the little baby I was in my early twenties and see the mountains of growth from one year to the next. I use to think (and act) like I was the queen of the world. The decisions I made, albeit very freaking fun, were reckless and often made without thought. Because at the end of the day, I just knew that I was going to be okay. Whatever that was supposed to mean.
Y’all, I had the audacity to think that moving to Thailand to teach English was a good decision. I can barely write and speak without making a mistake somewhere down the line. But I said “let’s go” anyways.
24-26
By the time I was in my mid-twenties, I had a better handle on the way of the world and only sometimes let my emotions get the best of me. I’d fallen into the steady and chaotic rhythm of teaching and had abandoned all desire to live in the USA. I stand by the fact that my 25th year was the best year of my life. I went to Greece and found social and started making friends over Instagram and Twitter.
I felt good.
27-29
Which was, of course, all messed up by the time that COVID hit. Y’all when I tell you that I’ve never reevaluated everything in my life so hard before. I mean it. Being far away from my parents wasn’t appealing anymore. The lack of community and stability that comes with being an expat was driving a giant hole in my heart. But because of massive student loans (see reckless decisions #234981) I moved to Malaysia anyways. I was ready for a change. I just didn’t realize that that change would come with so much darkness.
It’s not a surprise, I think, to the people I’m closest with that I have been struggling with anxiety and depression. All of which was magnified by the pandemic. And while the world is slowly moving towards an endemic phase, there are lingering parts of darkness that I can’t seem to shake. There’s a need to say that I’m okay. And I am. I’m not one to lie about things like that. We know there’s nothing but brutal honesty in this little corner of the internet.
My hopes going forward
I’m hoping for big things in my thirties. The foundation has been laid and set to dry. Now it’s time to build up. Build deeper. Become more rooted in the things I’m passionate about and want to pursue.
Malaysia is moving on to its endemic phase at the beginning of April and I’m starting to see more international travel in my future. This new phase means unpausing everything I set out to do two+ years ago. The big trips I’m manifesting are New Zealand, Nepal, and South Africa. I’m also manifesting pulling an uno reverse on my crushing student loan debt and start crushing them instead. I’ll probably even move countries at least 2 more times before possibly finding that forever home.
As for love… I’ve been perpetually single for the last 14 years of my life and I am starting to think it might not be in the cards. And while that’s not okay at the moment, I’ll come to terms with it eventually. But more than finding that one true love, I hope to love myself more in my 30s than I ever did in my 20s. That when I am reading this post on the eve of turning 40, I’ll feel good about my life whatever the outcome.
I have lived a full 29 years. and I’m hoping to live a full 29 more. So, I’m walking into this next decade, with eyes and heart wide open, wholly unprepared, but ready to full send anyway.
Until next time
Ari
