Reflections on Turning 30
Me in the mid-1990’s vs. me in 2019. Same squinting-when-it’s-bright-out smile and unruly hair.
Three decades on planet earth. A tri-decennium. Thirty definitely feels like a milestone. The kind that inspires friends and colleagues, both younger and older, to say (with somewhat apprehensive expressions) “How do you feel about turning thirty?”
How I feel about turning 30 is framed by how far I came in my 20’s.
My twenties were, for the most part, tumultuous. I got married to my high school sweetheart but, to my shame, quickly divorced when he fell off the wagon and into the toxic behavior patterns of a true addict. I graduated from college but spent the next year and half working in retail at a big box store, a soul-sucking endeavor that gives me great respect for anyone in such a position. I struggled with job rejections and only landed one interview during that whole time, only to find out weeks later I wasn’t what they were looking for. It was a disheartening time that seemed to drag on for ages.
I started dating someone new and when he told me he had been accepted to graduate school in Montana, I took stock of my circumstances and my dwindling friend group in my college town, and I packed up and moved west. Moving to Missoula was undoubtedly the best decision of my twenties. I was introduced to a whole new culture in the west, where everyone is outdoorsy and overwhelmingly fit. Most importantly, I was introduced to bicycling as a transformative tool for people and cities, and to the field of sustainable transportation as a career option. I got a strong leg up in an industry just finding its footing in America.
But being so far away from home was hard. My best friend of eleven years was diagnosed with stage IV cancer while I was there, and I only got to see him twice before he died, at age 28. I should have spent more time with him, but I couldn’t afford the travel back and forth or the time off work. I felt overwhelming guilt for not making his last months a bigger priority. I also felt like I was missing out on my niece’s childhood, and wanted to be a bigger part of it. So after two years, I moved back to Kentucky, to take the things I had learned from the west and apply them in my home state.
Back in the bluegrass, I got a temporary job that thankfully later transitioned into a career, but I was struggling to keep my relationship afloat, and I felt stuck in it. My lifestyle was fairly sedentary, and not befitting of my values. That breakup was hard, not because it was ugly, but because we had both put so much into it.
So, I got a new apartment, and at 27, I was single again. I was just starting graduate school, which I would be able to work on part time by attending evening classes while continuing my day job. My assignment had finally transitioned from temporary to full time, allowing me more economic freedom to find new hobbies. The road ahead felt wide open. Those few months were a major turning point for me.
I had spent nearly my entire adult life in two long-term relationships. I thought I’d give casual dating a shot. I went on two dates with a nice guy I met on Tinder, but then I went on a date with Michael. And I fell for him, hard. So much for casual.
The rest of my twenties went by in a blur. Michael moved in with me, bought a Promaster van, and we built it out together. I got into whitewater kayaking and started viewing every weekend as an opportunity for adventure. My job advanced, I joined community organizations and started helping out with local nonprofits. I plugged along with part time graduate school, which has been painful at times. I got a membership at my local climbing gym. And here I am.
Here I am, in the last week of my twenties. Staring 30 in the face. I’m not married, have no kids, and don’t own a home - things I once considered indicators of success in adulthood (and definitely ones I thought I would have achieved by now).
“How do you feel about turning thirty?”
I started my twenties unsure but optimistic about my future. I didn’t feel like my life had really begun yet. I felt mature for my age, but I didn’t feel like an adult. I also harbored the naïve belief that at some point in adulthood, a person settles into who they will be: that childhood is defined by growth and uncertainty, and adulthood is defined by stasis but security of self.
On the brink of 30, I definitely feel like an adult. I feel accomplished. Capable. Sure-footed. I know myself. But I also know now that people become who they are every single day. That new experiences and new encounters constantly change a person’s worldview and the choices they make about how they see themselves and the people around them. I think if I had known this at twenty, it would have been daunting. I expected some amount of finality, and that that would provide confidence and relief. But knowing it now, I am inspired. I will continue to grow and change with the world around me, and can continue to challenge myself to be better tomorrow than I am today.
The trail I blazed in my twenties set my thirties up for success. I am sure this next decade will be filled with unexpected circumstances, both good and bad. But I am lucky to be here now, reaching a number of years on this beautiful planet that my best friend wasn’t given the opportunity to. I can’t reason why I’m here and he’s not, but I’m living a life now that honors his spirit, and I know he’d be proud.
How do I feel about turning 30? I think back to 20-year-old me and put myself in her shoes. And I know what she’d think if she saw me today: What. A. Badass.
