The last few months have been dominated by my imminent crash into 30; sometimes with cautious glee but mostly frenetic fear. Overwhelmed by questions of worthiness in this world and constant comparisons towards anyone else who might have one up on me. Looking around all I could see were friends and peers who had their shit together, and I occasionally couldn't help but recognise the condescension from others over my poor life choices. I couldn't care less about wrinkles or saggy skin, it's not actually the age bit, it's the concern I haven't achieved enough and I'm running out of time. People younger than me are married, have proper salaries, don't drink until they puke, what have I been doing?
I decided to create a pre 30 bucket list (obviously). It swings from the divine to the debauched; Ibiza was a wonderful triumph but I have decided that a threesome is just unnecessary... Of course, there are a ton of things that I didn't bother to put on there (marriage and children seem out of the question) and then when writing this infinite, ridiculous list I realised how many things I still had the freedom and opportunity to do.
'Oh, I'm 30, not dead'
Now to all of you sensible people/over 30's, you probably already knew this, but it's taken my tiny little brain a tad longer!
I'm hugely grateful for the opportunities I've had so far and bloody excited for what's next. I'm only 30 (actually, not yet) so I've probably got more than double this time to keep playing. Judging by recent 30th celebrations, there's still a lot of silliness to be had and I've decided to have my first proper birthday party, it's never too late!
Wahoo, I'm turning 30. I'm not worried about being an adult.
And to any other twenty something's bothered about getting older; if you're feeling itchy, give it a good scratch. It feels good
