It’s funny to be at the age where you’re supposed to have it all figured out – and not being close.
The age I’ve always assumed was so serious and grown-up.
Where drinking coke at a party will prompt automatic assumptions that you’re pregnant – or trying.
And for those parties you do feel like letting loose, feeling increasingly regretful the next morning… or the next two mornings.
My sister-in-law once said she felt like a real adult when she turned 30. I don’t know if I’d say I do yet, but somehow, reaching this big number wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be. I struggled more with turning 20 than I have with 30 if you can believe it.
It’s likely I’ll never really get to that fabled point of true adulthood, of being put together and feeling confident in what I’m doing and where I’m going. Of knowing how to balance all the facets of my life, and feeling happy in each one. Does anyone ever get there? Or is it more about pretending we do? Fake it ’til you make it. But when do you make it?
Whether we’re 30 or 70, maybe it’s more about taking our life experiences and making the best of the ones that are happening now. As a yoga teacher once told me, the most important thing in life is the thing you’re doing right now. I try to live by those words as best I can, although it’s often a struggle. And I think for me, turning 30 is more about that than anything being a real adult might mean. Who knows what the future will bring? What’s the use of living in the past? Living in the now is all we really can do anyway.