In the months leading up to my 30th birthday, I ran through a million emotions. Most of them negative. I firmly believed that my life was practically over; once you turn 30, you may as well have one foot in the grove, right? Adios, youth. It’s been real.
Thirty seemed so terrifying because in my mind and heart I feel like a child. At least once a day something happens that leads me to ask myself, “Who let me be a grown up? Have a house? A career? A husband? I’m not ready! Wasn’t it yesterday I was filling my days with school, Girl Scouts, and marathon telephone conversations with girlfriends?”
But 30 came and went. It was all pretty underwhelming. Other than that daunting number flashing into my brain like a neon sign, nothing else seemed to change.
But it did.
Women in their 40s reassured me that their 30s were the best decade. Now I know what that means -- and I’m only two months in.
With 30 comes a sense of security and confidence. Up until this point I was always unsure, never quite knowing how to act, how to respond, how to complete daily life tasks. I’ve let fear and anxiety dictate my path in life.
I was involved in a car accident last week, in a strange city four states away from my husband. I was the one to act quickly and with a cool head. I assessed the situation, soothed my hysterical sister-in-law, made sure my shell-shocked mother-in-law and nephew were physically okay, reassured my brother-in-law via phone that we were all in one piece. I went through an action plan with the cops and medics to arrange our transportation back home. In retelling the story to my friend, it hit me that 20 year old Amy, even 25 year old Amy, would have crumbled into a crying mess. At what point did I turn into … an adult who knew what to do?
There’s been some inner bravery and confidence running through me that I never knew existed. I walk with a purpose. I stare problems in the eye. My critical, analytical skills have increased. I can expertly deal with anyone who crosses my path, no matter how difficult they may be. I know my flaws (both internal and external), but I chose to embrace or correct, not dwell in it like I did in my youth.
If this is a side effect of aging, then sign me up. If I can be this awesome at 30, I can’t wait until 40. (Okay, maybe 35.)
Thirty seemed so terrifying because in my mind and heart I feel like a child. At least once a day something happens that leads me to ask myself, “Who let me be a grown up? Have a house? A career? A husband? I’m not ready! Wasn’t it yesterday I was filling my days with school, Girl Scouts, and marathon telephone conversations with girlfriends?”
But 30 came and went. It was all pretty underwhelming. Other than that daunting number flashing into my brain like a neon sign, nothing else seemed to change.
But it did.
With 30 comes a sense of security and confidence. Up until this point I was always unsure, never quite knowing how to act, how to respond, how to complete daily life tasks. I’ve let fear and anxiety dictate my path in life.
I was involved in a car accident last week, in a strange city four states away from my husband. I was the one to act quickly and with a cool head. I assessed the situation, soothed my hysterical sister-in-law, made sure my shell-shocked mother-in-law and nephew were physically okay, reassured my brother-in-law via phone that we were all in one piece. I went through an action plan with the cops and medics to arrange our transportation back home. In retelling the story to my friend, it hit me that 20 year old Amy, even 25 year old Amy, would have crumbled into a crying mess. At what point did I turn into … an adult who knew what to do?
There’s been some inner bravery and confidence running through me that I never knew existed. I walk with a purpose. I stare problems in the eye. My critical, analytical skills have increased. I can expertly deal with anyone who crosses my path, no matter how difficult they may be. I know my flaws (both internal and external), but I chose to embrace or correct, not dwell in it like I did in my youth.
If this is a side effect of aging, then sign me up. If I can be this awesome at 30, I can’t wait until 40. (Okay, maybe 35.)
And to my dear friend Colette, who turned the big 2-8 today, chin up. It just gets better from here.
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