So, I turn 30 in like… two weeks. Cool. I had wanted to write a “Thirty Before 30” recap, but I’ve come to believe that the whole magic number bucket list concept is maybe kiiind of ageist. While I originally thought it was a fun idea (which I blame entirely on the young, hip upper-middle class blogging community), I now have a sneaking suspicion that the list implies that these things will be somehow be less fun or meaningful after turning 30. As if once you exit your twenties you are no longer a vibrant, adventurous, or useful person. 30 is somehow the new dead.
I have one life in front of me, a limited few years, during which I would like to experience so many things. Many of these I will never get to experience, either before or after turning 30.
I guess that was a little depressing? And, negative. Sorry. I don’t mean it that way. I really don’t think there’s anything wrong with prioritizing, but sometimes life just happens. And I’m sure a lot of people will read this post as a cop-out. We make choices that don’t always lead us to a place where we accomplish our goals in a timely manner, or at all. I don’t want my life to be a checklist. ‘X’ the boxes, check, check, then it’s done. I don’t want to feel sad that I didn’t accomplish a, b, and c, when maybe instead I chose d, j, and l. Or whatever. I want to take full responsibility for both my action and inaction. My list is fluid, and always on the table.
I am looking forward to turning 30. I am thankful I have survived. People have said that I am fragile (ps that is a really insulting label for a human being), and while I may be sensitive, that does not equate to fragility. I may not be a take-it-all-while-she-can powerhouse, but that’s just not my personality; I don’t want to be that person, and that certainly doesn’t mean I’m fragile. Fragile people are breakable.
Sensitive people sometimes have debilitating anxiety and depression. Sometimes we get caught up in putting the needs of others before our own. Sometimes we feel like breaking, but we power through. We become a little stronger. We realize the things we want are, after all, important. We recover. We may heal slowly, but we do not break.
We hike The Great Wall. We swim with sea turtles in the Caribbean. We climb mountains, read books, try new foods. We attend graduate school at Harvard. We stay in pajamas until 2:00 in the afternoon.
We turn goddamned thirty. And hopefully eighty. I like to think my chances of survival are pretty high.
T minus 12 days.
Thanks for stopping by. My name is Naomi, and this space is made of girldust. This blog is a picture of my comfortably scattered life on the coast of Maine. I'm trying to be a slightly better version of myself every day. I like old houses, reading, the ocean, ghost stories, and museums. You can learn a little bit more about me here.