My Next Thirty Years

Returning from my accidental hiatus to share some thoughts about turning Thirty, Flirty, and THRIVING.

We were a big Tim McGraw household when I was growing up. All Tim, Faith Hill, and Shania Twain all the time. I remember listening to “My Next Thirty Years” a lot in the car, and I remember feeling like turning thirty was a whole lifetime away.

Well, readers, that lifetime away has arrived at my doorstep.

My past thirty years have been filled with good books, good friends, and a lot of rewatches of Pride and Prejudice. I’ve also seen not-so-good friends, made plenty of mistakes, and felt a lot of emotions. I’ve been pretty open about how for much of my adolescence, I didn’t imagine seeing thirty. I barely imagined seeing eighteen. My brain was a dark place I never thought I’d escape, and every year I get to live is one I’m incredibly grateful for.

When I was young, I thought that by thirty, I’d be married with at least one kid, be a successful singer, and well, would’ve accomplished a lot more in my life. I don’t see being unmarried and childless as a failure, of course, and I am not that great a singer so I’m not mad my career goals skewed either. I’ve grown and changed immensely from the girl I was back then. I’m beyond thankful that I didn’t meet My Guy until my mid-to-late twenties, because the person I was even in my mid-twenties was still learning and maturing and figuring herself out. And I found my deep passion for writing, something I’m much better at than performing. 

Do I wish I was published by now? Yes. But hey, I’m working on it! (The rejection in my inbox this morning was not welcome, but oh WELL!)

All that to say, while I struggled through my awkward years, metamorphosed into a completely different person in my young adulthood, and have since become what I consider my best and truest self, I must say, though, that I might actually be more like that little girl jamming to Tim McGraw than not like her. In the last few years, I’ve kind of re-met myself where I used to be. Stopped feeling quite so cringe about myself. Trusted myself.

My past thirty years have been quite the rollercoaster, and very little has ended up how I expected. I also used to dread this milestone! I thought that turning thirty was the beginning of the end.

But I’m so excited.

My twenties were for figuring out who I was supposed to be. We’re so rushed to pick a career path. The universe makes you sign up for the rest of your life at seventeen! Better hope you pick the right thing, am I right? I’m lucky I love writing as much, if not more, than I did back then, so I had a bit less pressure on that part. Instead, I made friends, lost friends, and cherished friends. I traveled and read wonderful books, and met Michael Keaton. I’ve had the highest of highs and some unfortunate lows (but not the lowest!), and I have really and truly loved my twenties.

However, I do think the best is yet to come! I’ve started querying a book I actually have a good feeling about, I live with the love of my life and we take really long and nice walks together, and I’ve made some major steps in dealing with my anxiety. I’ll never feel ready to keep aging, but I am looking forward to my next thirty years.

May it be filled with good people, good wine, and even more good books. I hope to travel to more countries, watch more movies, and laugh a lot.