In exactly nine months, I turn 30 years old.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the least bit anxious about the big 3–0 and entering a new phase in my life where I’m meant to be at my prime (or starting to peak).
But it’s not so much the fear of getting older, or my biological clock ticking. It’s more about falling short of my own expectations and failing to achieve my personal goals I thought I’d have already accomplished.
I was always in a rush to ‘grow up’. When I was 13, I wanted to be 16 so I can start gaining weight in the right places and not look like a walking stick with a training bra. When I was 16 I wanted to be 18 so I would be of legal age to vote, drink and drive and feel slightly emancipated from the term ‘tweenybopper’. When I was 21, I took myself too seriously and wanted to fast-forward to 25 so I’d have enough work experience to gain credibility and be a decision-maker. At 26, I couldn’t be happier being closer to the early bracket of twenties but knew I had to start making pivotal, deliberate life choices. Deep down I wanted to be 30 – because 30 to me, then, meant I’d have my shit together and #winningatlife.
Now here I am at 29, wondering when exactly my metabolism slowed, finally coming to terms with the idea that it’s not necessary to have ice cream after each meal, and feeling determined to do the things I’ve promised myself I’d do before I turn 30. In no particular order, I’m looking to complete my list below and turn them into a link (I’ll document it as proof):
- Join an organized run or challenge
- Travel to Paris
- Climb a mountain
- Take a short certification course or program
- Volunteer for a cause I actually care about
- Get a job in my dream company ü
- Try an extreme winter sport
- Get my blue belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu
- Contribute and give back to my family
- Get engaged
Okay, so the last one is not entirely under my control but nothing is impossible, right? 😉