Turning 30

Time and Tide wait for no man, but time always stands still for a woman of thirty.

~Robert Frost

This is the last post I will write before I enter the decade of the 30's. My last post as a twenty-something. I never really cared about age, until today. Thinking about turning 30 tomorrow leaves me a little bummed. Why? I have no idea. So as I always do (because I still act like I'm a twenty-something who can't think of herself), I googled the reasons why people don't like turning 30. Maybe I would discover my reason. Google is my therapist.

And I found it. Dead-on. The reason I am bummed about turning 30 is because I am left (or starting) with a feeling that I have not accomplished all that I wanted to by this age. Like, I don't know: growing up. Being successful at something. Forming a strong and true identity. Becoming a strong woman who is full of power and boldness. Something like that.

When you hit a milestone age like this, you start to really examine your life. And it only took me about 43 seconds to sum up my life's work. So that in itself was pretty depressing. That voice in my head that is full of sound logic keeps fighting back my urge to cry, "I've done nothing! I'm noone! I stay at home all day to clean pee off the floor and make time-out threats followed by peanut butter sandwiches and peaches!" That voice in my head reminds of me of all the amazing experiences, education, and jobs I've had throughout the last 29 years. My Google Therapist reminds me that the decade of the 30s are considered the best by most people because it is then that they feel they really have a handle on life.

I do think I would feel a great deal more excited if I had perhaps achieved all of my childhood dreams by now. Rather, I am pressed to even accomplish my "TO-DO" list of mending a skirt and canning green beans.

I will say this for turning 30, though. I am a more mature person now. And I've got the love handles to prove it.

“The only time you really live fully is from thirty to sixty. The young are slaves to dreams; the old servants of regrets. Only the middle-aged have all their five senses in the keeping of their wits.” – Hervey Allen