On Turning 30

In exactly 3 months from tomorrow I will turn 30.  When Scott turned 30 3 years ago although he may not admit it he had a little bit of a hard time.  I simply could not understand.  “30 is SO YOUNG!  You have to do what you just did 2 more times!  You’re just getting started!”  Yeah, well, now I’m sitting right outside the door of 30 and getting ready to knock and I completely understand now.

I DO NOT want to turn 30.  I LIKE being in my 20s.  It’s old enough to be considered an adult and yet young enough to do many things that “people in their 30s” shouldn’t do.  “I’m still in my 20’s” is an easy excuse for getting your belly button pierced or wearing a dress a little too short.  30’s seem lost somewhere in the middle of adulthood…not quite young, not over the hill just blah in the middle.

And I have another theory about why it’s so scary.  When you’re a teenager going through high school, plans are made.  What college you want to attend, what job you want to land, what kind of husband you want, how many kids, where you’ll live.  It’s all thought about.  And that puts you about 10 years out into your late 20s.  And then…nothing.  No one ever dreams about what they’re 30’s are going to look like.  Or 40’s and 50’s for that matter.  Yeah, some people dream about what they’ll do in their 60’s when they retire but plans aren’t made for those 3 decades where you’re actually raising those 2.5 kids and working your butt off to retire.

It’s depressing really.  It’s almost as if any life you’ve planned up until now is just over.  No dreams or goals to attain now.  The next few years are a big gray cloudy question mark.  And, no, it’s not fun to be standing at the door and knocking.  Don’t let me in, I’m happy where I’m at, thank you!

So yeah, maybe I’m crazy but I’m not looking forward to it.  My brain tells me to make new goals, dream new dreams…what do I want to do for the next 30 years or even 10 years?  I have no clue…try not to grow too many gray hairs raising two girls and working a job that is quickly becoming dreadful?

I’m sure I’ll roll my eyes and laugh at myself when I look back and read this when I turn 40 or 50 but for now, someone’s going to have to knock for me because if I do, I’m turning and running back down the driveway.