Surviving the 20s

Why is it such a big deal when a woman turns 30? It definitely isn’t because she survived the 20s. It definitely isn’t because of an achievement. It is spoken more with a tragic air that we’ve crossed into the grey time from which there is no return.

I’d been looking forward to turning 30 for a while, so I could say that I survived my 20s. The 20s are horrible… full of big, important decisions made by naïve people that actually affect the rest of your life, stubbornness or pig-headedness that makes you stick by those decisions, even when you realize that you are probably being dumb.

So it should probably be a time of celebration that you made to it the other side without too many war wounds.

Turning 30 should be a sign of success, a time for reflection, a time for cheering.

When I was 10, someone said that by the time one hits 30, we are more firm in our opinions and less open to other things. I had vehemently denied or laughed about this, stating that I would never be that person. Today, I am a little shamefaced to say that I am rather firm in my opinions and a little less open to things than I should be.

But perhaps realizing that is key and I will be more open to things again. Regarding the opinions part though, you develop a clear idea of what you like and what you don’t. You develop a routine and you are either the kind of person that is ready to kill if the routine is changed or the kind who enjoys that change every once in a while. I’m glad to think I’m still in the second category.

Your patience runs thinner when you head towards the other side of 30. People can be incredibly dumb and for those of us who were born with little or no patience, this can be a trial. Everytime I think I’ve learnt to be patient, I am taught another lesson that I have not really learnt much. So the learning is constant and hopefully, the lessons will catch better than the algebra in school.

30 is a nice age to be because you are just appreciating the balances, beginning to learn about balances actually. You enjoy the quiet, you enjoy the hard work. You probably have a vision of the future, or least how you don’t want the future to be. You are wise enough to know when you are being shitty (or most of the times when you are being shitty). You’ve learned to suck up and apologize. You’ve learned the dangers of ego. You’ve learned that you have learned nothing and you need to start afresh.

There is an air of challenge, of racing against time and you begin honing your priorities. The bucket list is honed down to things that are really important. The frustrations perhaps don’t go away. You probably haven’t become the person you thought you would be. Which might be good or bad. But you realize these things. You realize that you are not the best person in the world and you might or might not be okay with it. You accept some things and you strive to work on some things. You’ve reached a balance and you are keenly aware, every single moment, that you might be brought to your knees.

Yoda, you are not. But least you’ve accepted your role, as vague as it still is.

Turning 30 seems to have erased some of the discontentment that was plaguing me for a while. Maybe it will return. But for now, I look forward to what can be and not all the opportunities missed. No, that’s not entire accurate. I do feel like an ass but then I realize that I have done a substantial amount for a 30-year old. Or nothing at all. It depends on which way you look at it.

Perspectives. That is what you keenly become aware about.

Strangely, I still don’t have an idea of that ‘goal’ but right now, that doesn’t seem as keenly, painfully frustrating as it was a few weeks ago. I guess that’s what surviving the 20s brings you.

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