I am about three months into my thirties, and I can already tell this is going to be my decade. I have felt a strong internal shift in the past few weeks. It’s like my body breathed a sign of relief. Ahhh, we finally made it.
When I was younger, my dad once told me it’s like I was born thirty years old. Maybe he was right. I finally feel like I fit.
This is actual, by the way. When people make bold claims about how their lives magically shifted one day without putting in any effort, I tend to roll my eyes. Sure it did. Sure you locked eyes across the room and “just knew.” Sure you just woke up one day and felt like you suddenly were who you felt like you were always meant to be.
Sure.
But here I am, feeling the thing.
Don’t worry, I don’t think it’s magic (in the literal sense). I think the shift in me boils down to two things.
1. My Knowing
Glennon Doyle talks a lot about the “Knowing” in her book Untamed (if you haven’t read it yet, go do that now, then come back here. I also recommend the audiobook because she reads it, and I love when authors read their own words to me.). The Knowing as I understand it is the voice inside that guides you. It calms when things are as they should be and alerts when they aren’t. It tells you when things are right or…not so right. The thing about your Knowing is that it is always there, but can easily be ignored. Sometimes you just feel off about something, but you push through anyway. Maybe your Knowing tells you in college that you’re not in the right major, but this is what you’ve always planned to do, so you stick it out because there’s no Plan B. Maybe your Knowing tells you you’re not in the right relationship, but you don’t listen because you’re supposed to walk down the aisle in two weeks, so you can’t back out now. Maybe your Knowing tells you that living in your hometown forever won’t fulfill you, but you stay anyway because your friends and family are all here, and starting over is scary. It’s easy to disregard the Knowing, but I think if you do, you will always feel a little off. Like something isn’t quite right. Like there must be more than this.
In the past few months of my thirties, my Knowing has been speaking to me a lot. The thing that’s different about that from my twenties is that I’ve been listening. In my twenties, I often felt the “this isn’t quite right,” but thought instead, “it’s good enough though.” Now when I hear the “this isn’t quite right,” I think, “Why? What would feel more true to me?” My Knowing says, “You haven’t talked to your friends in a while,” and instead of thinking, “Well, they’re probably too busy. They’d text me if they wanted to talk,” I respond with, “You’re right. That’s probably why I’m feeling lonely. I’m going to schedule a zoom with them.” My Knowing thinks, “I don’t think this stay-at-home-mom thing is right for you,” and instead of saying, “Yeah, but I’m stuck here for the foreseeable future, so I might as well lean into it. Maybe I’ll have another baby or start another project so I have something new to focus on,” I think, “You’re right. I’m going to start researching jobs I might want to apply for as soon as it’s safe to do so.” My Knowing says, “I wonder how this person is doing?” and instead of thinking, “Well, keep wondering because I haven’t talked to that person in years, and reaching out now would make me seem so weird,” I think, “You’re right. I’m going to check in on them.” My Knowing has been alerting me to things, and I am choosing to act on them. I can feel it in my bones that listening to my Knowing is going to be key for my thirties.
2. Caring Less
My twenties was spent trying to be who I should be. I should be polite. I should be quiet. I should be smart but humble. I should be funny, but not abrasive. I should be positive, happy, easygoing. I should be fit, responsible, hardworking. I should be a college graduate, a wife, a mother, a smart spender, a person with a plan. I should be someone who finds her path and follows it until she dies, never straying.
In my thirties, I’d like to focus more on who I am.
I am someone who feels everything deeply. I am someone who has opinions about some things, but couldn’t care less about others. I am someone who has high expectations for other people and higher expectations for myself. I am someone who gets confused and feels lost and wants to run away. I am someone who dreads every single social interaction, even when I know it’s going to be fun. I am someone who craves connection with others. I am someone who tries so hard to look like I’m not trying. I am someone who makes inappropriate jokes, cusses occasionally, and makes mistakes. And in my thirties, I’m going to work on showing those things instead of pretending to have it all together.
I am messy and complicated and afraid, and I am going to show up anyway. (Another Glennon Doyle reference. Seriously. Read the book.)
Because who cares? Why do I want to surround myself with people who like me because they don’t actually know me? I need to worry more about being who I am and letting people take it or leave it. If you think I’m weird, that’s fine. If you don’t like weird, we wouldn’t make it as friends anyway.
This is my one life. I spent the last decade pretending I only felt happy, shiny, simple things. I want to spend the next one feeling everything.
the magic season 