This weekend, I’ll officially be in my thirties.
Like IN my thirties… not “on” thirty… but past the goal post of the beginning of thirty –
No, that is wrong.
Because I’m turning thirty-one.
It doesn’t mean: “oh this is your thirty first year of living” – it means “you have lived for 31 years.”
Yah. I passed the “goal post” of the beginning of thirty the minute I turned thirty. I thought I could sneak my way around that and make it some kind of abstract thing but, nahh, that’s not the case.
I’m having some difficulties with this. Over the past year I’ve been way more nostalgic than usual. I’ve reposted several articles on my Facebook timeline about being a 90s kid, the things we grew up with in the 90s, being an “old millenial” and This Post from thought catalog. It perfectly justifies why I’ve been feeling so sentimental and helps me realize that I’m not the only one.
(But everything seemed to fall into place where it made the most sense for me. Cell phones started getting popular just as I was getting into university, so I had one in time for me to be semi-grown-up and didn’t miss out on anything. The housing bust happened the year after I graduated and right at the end of a contract, so I was going to be looking for work anyways. This seemed “normal” for me, when in fact it was a total shock to people born just a several years earlier, already carrying on with their established adult lives and wondering “enhhhh, I just got laid off, do I really need a cell phone?”)
Yes, I do miss “the old days” when kids played with sticks and rocks – but is it because it was my childhood and not because the internet just wasn’t relevant at the time? Maybe.
I’m just extremely nostalgic all around. I hoard photos, ticket stubs, journals, clothes – when we moved in October, a lot of my old clothes came out of storage. I’m talking about clothes I wore in highschool. I threw out a lot of them (not by choice) but I needed to keep some key pieces that just had that much importance. The pieces where I just look at them and I can vividly imagine myself back in my classrooms, in the hallways, in the music room, in the cafeteria… (obviously not repressed memories. I loved my highschool experience.) Not to mention, I’m still the same size I was back then, so these are very much useful, viable pieces of history. Hah!
Maybe I just felt like I had so much more time back then, and I regret not spending it more wisely. Does it seem like time is flying by faster simply because I’m – you know, thirty with a husband and a kid, and have way more things to worry about than I did when I was 10? Of course. Back then, the end of my week revolved around TGIF’s Full House, Family Matters, and Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Nowadays, my evenings consist of trying to get dinner ready before the sun goes down, building an online business and pretty much blankly staring at the F3 tornado trail my toddler tows around.
I think the meaning I want to pull out of this is that I used to be afraid of change – or, I used to think I was afraid of change. But change is so good. Change is growth – it’s evolution, it’s hope, it’s possibility, it’s maturity, it’s challenge, it’s life.
I shouldn’t be longing for the days where I’d play Pogs all afternoon because I’ve got a soon-to-be two-year-old and I gotta focus on her toys now.
That and there is no more time for daydreaming. This is Thirty.