Time is getting away from me and I can’t lie…I’m a little scared. I’m going to be thirty. I never thought I’d have such a hard time with this age. It’s not even about my biological clock ticking or the surprise acne, although…in ways, it kind of is.
I remember looking up to people in their thirties and thinking, they look so grown up like they have it all figured out. The house, the car, the kids. Yikes. I’ve been out of college for 7 years carrying along my student debt behind me like Dora the Explorer’s backpack. Shit just keeps falling out of that sucker and I’m always tugging my hair out asking everyone else to help me figure out the map. Now I’m looking back at people in their early 20’s and thinking, they’re so young like they don’t need to have it all figured out. The confidence, the ability to just pick up and go, the energy. Fuck.
The thing is, I’m quickly approaching the last year in my initial college graduate five year plan. You know the one, that plan you make when you realize the world doesn’t give a shit about your degree in liberal arts. And it’s not like my plan was a wash. I’ve written and published my own work, I’ve paid off half of my student loan debt, bought a brand new car and got married. My five-year plan was very successful, considering that I started it with -$980 in my bank account and unemployed.
I guess my fear is that I have this expectation that my 30s were meant for building wealth, not the continuation of me digging my way out of debt. I’m supposed to have a saving account, an emergency fund, a credible credit score, and investments. Most importantly, I should not be buying McDonald's on a coupon three days before payday because I’m broke!
Yet here I am. And now I'm looking back at my 20’s in a blur of transitions, transformations, revolutions and lots of really bad tequila shots. Fingers crossed, no repeats.
Time for a new five-year plan. You know the one, that plan you make when you’re about to be thirty and somehow start facing this narcissism epidemic of comparing your life to every other 30-year-old on Facebook. It is no wonder that studies show links between depression and social media. So I’m beginning to put my ducks in a row for the year ahead of me. Opening up that emergency saving account, working on my credit and maybe looking into investments. First, I’ll have to learn about them.
I want to buy a house. I want to have a baby. When I’m thirty-five I want to be the kind of woman that loves her thirties. I’ve always felt like that age bracket suits me, no idea why. Lord knows I don’t want to relive my 20s. A time spent in a constant state of middle ground. Feeling like I was constantly waiting for my life to start. God no.
I’d love to say that this is the last time I’ll be blogging about my age, but I think it’s important that we have an honest and open relationship. So until the next mini meltdown…later.