Lifestyle

Musings on Turning 30

Posted on May 29, 2018

So today is the big one: 3-0. The birthday that cues meltdowns in movies and seems to be a time where the media predicts that women fly off the handle. Even on twitter, tweet babies (24 year olds) talk about how old they are and it makes me go “oh my sweet summer child, tsk tsk”:.

But me?

I’m happy. I love my birthday. Selfishly, it’s my favourite day of the year and hitting this milestone hasn’t bummed me out at all. I have some new wrinkles, I weigh more but I’m yet to find a grey hair.

I don’t want to get “old” necessarily, but I also don’t feel old. I’m traveling more than I used to, I am still saving and spending in ways that make me happy, I have fun. Plus I now have Sam, Harold and a home. If anything, every year of my twenties has increasingly gotten better and better. If it wasn’t for my pesky ILR visa application this summer (which has caused huge stress and tension for years – my immigration status in the UK has never been safe until I qualify for ILR) then this year would have been one of my best ever.

And my twenties haven’t been increasingly better just for me. A lot of my girlfriends have voiced similar thoughts. I know myself better now, I am more confident in myself, I’m happy with the “career” trajectory that I’m on and the opportunities that I’ve been getting, I have a partner who supports me unconditionally, a home that we share. I might not be the person I pictured at 15.

At 15 I thought I’d be a rich lawyer who tottered around New York on impossibly high heels with an incredible wardrobe and a tight-knit group of friends (a la ‘Sex and the City’), drinking martinis and espresso, having a wasp-like waistline, a shiny apartment and I’d never have kids.

At 30, I’m actually a freelance doula, writer, photographer, actor, blogger who runs around York in Birkenstocks and Mohedas; a vegan, crystal-loving, tattooed, latte-drinking, yoga enthusiast who goes to pagan moots; I have a husband that I love with all my heart, and the best dog in the planet. I travel more than I thought I ever would, I have far less clothing, but it’s clothing that I love a lot more. I’ve found my style in many ways.

I can’t stay up all night, a hangover lasts for days and I look at a cake and it sticks to my hips. I still hate making small talk. I don’t want to be friends with everyone. I want to be friends with a few people but really, really make it count. “Going out” to me is going on an adventure, to a place I haven’t been before or a super tasty new restaurant. I mentioned that I’m more confident: I know my strengths better and I also know my weaknesses. I take off my bra first thing when I get home and my perfect Friday is in my PJs sitting on the sofa with my boys eating Thai food and reading a good book.

I’m more in touch with my body, heart and soul. (I should have started this post with a cheese warning.)

And dare I say it? Most of the time I love my life.

So cheers to being a thirty-something!

Here’s a little walk down memory lane:

21st birthday: