My birthday is next Wednesday. I'm turning the dreaded thirty. I don't know why this age is bothering me so much, but it's terrifying. Everyone I speak to tells me they had a hard time with it, too, although once it was over it wasn't as much of a big deal as they thought it would be. Why, then, is my rational mind having such a hard time coming to terms with this age?
I sit here, in a house I bought all on my own, with a well adjusted life, and wonder what the hell I'm so upset about. I should be happy, proud, and satisfied, but somehow I'm still afraid of missing something.
I see my friends running around in their hectic, expensive lives where taking a shower is a luxury and wonder if that's the kind of life I still want: married, 2.5 kids, white picket fence and a golden retriever chasing a cat around the yard. When I was young, up until I met Sean, I always said I didn't want kids, didn't want to get married. I didn't think my personality fit into that lifestyle. Suddenly being with him, everything changed. I had dreams of us living together, him talking to the child in my womb, taking care of me. Looking back now, I see how much of myself I changed to maintain that relationship. It really is amazing what a woman will do to keep up appearances - even one as independent and strong willed as I.
The funniest thing of all is that I didn't even know I was changing. I was slowly boiling in a pot on steadily increasing heat; the temperature never went up enough at once to warn me away, and one day I woke up dead.
I know I don't want to go through that hell again. What could have been the best years of my life instead turned out to be a horrific, painful waste of time. Youth truly is wasted on the young; if only we could all be Benjamin Button.
My doctor told me last week that I have "come so far in the last two and a half years" since I sat on his table crying dry tears and ready for death. I am clear headed now, and I am as happy as I can be in my constant drug-numbed state; so much so that he tells me I don't need the drugs anymore. I am "cured." I never wanted to take them to begin with, but I needed help then. I wonder what life will be like as "me" again. Will I be the "me" that loves quiet, solitary moments and never wanted kids or commitments, or will I be the "me" that doesn't want to be alone? It's an interesting trip I'm on, I'll tell you.
Maybe I just told myself I wanted the expensive, hectic version of the "american dream" because that's what he wanted. Say something often enough, eventually you will start to believe it. The rational me knows that I have an incredible life that many others say they envy - I come and go as I please, I don't answer to anyone other than my dog, I make more than the average american - enough to afford a house, a car and other luxuries comfortably. I love my job, have a loving (if dysfunctional) family and I have many friends that love me. Rationally, I know that I have enough, but it's a constant battle. I don't know why I have to keep reminding myself of all the good things in life.
Rationality doesn't always win, despite what others say.
30! I am not a person who looks backward, but I wouldn't mind being 30 again. My 30s were amazing...like you, I bought my own house with my own money. I was a single mom, and that was hard at times, but my life was good. I had some wild and crazy times in my 30s.
ReplyDeleteI was lonely sometimes, but mostly I cherished my time alone. That may not have been the case if I hadn't been a single mom, I don't know. But I learned really well to enjoy my own company, and to accept being lonely sometimes as just...life. We are all lonely sometimes. I met my husband when I was 37, got married at 40.
So I would say don't fear 30. 30 kicks ass. You are in a good place. Enjoy it, do what you love, you're golden, girl.
I will be 34 this year and to me that is more devastating than turning 30. I don't even remember it to be honest.
ReplyDeleteAs far as the life you imagine with the kids and the dog, don't consider yourself a failure because you don't have it. I thought I did everything right...perfect man,house,dog,cat,baby. Turns out it was all wrong,except the baby. That was the only good thing to come out of that trainwreck.
I settled, I admit it. I was afraid that I wouldnt find what I really wanted and settled for the next best thing. Huge mistake. Don't settle.
You deserve the best. Remember your worth and don't feel pressured to fulfill some dream that society has told us we're supposed to have. Fuck society. Rock on sister.