Finding my feet at 30

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Someecards via Pinterest

A few years ago I wrote this post about how I couldn’t wait to turn 30. I longed for a time of stability, a sense of self, a sense of home. But between 27 and today I lost two more jobs and one more relationship. And what I’ve found on the other side, isn’t solid ground.

I always felt like 30 would be age by which I’d have my shit together. Honestly I thought that would be 28, and when 28 came and went without having figured it out, I thought ‘Hell, 30 will be it.’ I thought I’d have decided what career I want (lol, it’s been more of a oh-god-i-dont-want-to-be-unemployed), have settled down in my own home (well, at least I’ve upgraded from a bachelor flat) and have The One – be engaged or married or something close. I’d have a cat or two (not be on to my third set of herbs because I keep killing the bastards). I’d finally have the stability I’ve longed for most of my life. I’d have a solid group of friends, people I could call up on a shitty night and say “hey, want to get a drink?”

But I don’t. I’m 30. Newly single. Sitting on my parents’ couch because hell yeah, I had ankle surgery (see? finding my….feet) on Monday and cannot fend for myself because I live alone and Mr Delivery drivers won’t make me cups of coffee. I’ve only started to really grow new friendships this year. Really reach out and tend to new connections and try give a little more love to older ones too. And it takes so much time. It takes so many days and hours to grow them into that safety net. And I still find myself on the bad days, just scrolling through Whatsapp and staring at the names and feeling like there’s not a single one I could message and ugly cry with. So it’s just me and my herbs and a glass of wine.

But I’ve started being so much more radically honest about things. I’ve posted about my depression and anxiety.Ā I’ve started being more upfront with people. I’ve started to try get in touch with what I want and honour that instead of constantly giving a fuck about what other people want. I’ve started to really try put me first in every moment, in every day and in every decision.

But none of that is giving me the life I want and crave. And maybe that’s the next thing to tackle, the next thing to go. Maybe it’s time to let go of the life I imagined – the house, the cat (ok, not the cat), the guy, having My People like all the Instagrammers do – and embrace what I have – a rented apartment, always-on-the-edge-of-death-herbs, and a whole lot of wine.

Maybe life just doesn’t work out the way you think it will – and maybe that can be ok.

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