Photo: Meredith Huelbig.
I’ve been thinking a lot about time lately.
How much time is left until the days get longer.
How much time it would take to get into marathon shape.
How much time I will have to give my Maid of Honor speech at my sister’s and soon-to-be-brother-in-law’s wedding.
How much time we have left.
So much emphasis in our lives is placed on a mundane timeline that society has created for us to make us feel bad about what we have not accomplished at that point in our lives instead of reflecting back on all the great that we have done.
I am turning 29 in less than two hours.
The last year of my 20s.
The last odd-numbered year of this decade before my 30s.
30.
That age has such a flagrant connotation to it that people have yet to come to a set conclusion on.
Some will say that it represents the end of your youth, officially entering into adulthood with a sour attitude and bitter taste for life that permanently lingers in your mouth. People will shame you into thinking that you are no longer offered the freedom of going out with your friends or trying new things in unfamiliar territory or starting over from square one. I believe this obstinate outlook comes from those who are scared of growing old and afraid of what that represents. Wrinkles? Grey hairs? Achy bones? Earlier bedtimes? So what? I experienced all of that and then some in my 20s thanks to the sleepless stress from college, the grueling hours in work, and the all-nighters pulled in the moments you felt invincible. If that’s what people believe will happen to you at the stroke of midnight of a new era, then I’ve been preparing for it throughout this entire one.
Now, on the opposite spectrum, the 30s to others means the dawn of a new time as you hit the reset button for a fresh start on your blossoming life. Not only are you now the youngest rookie again amongst a collective elite group of human beings, but the world of possibilities is endless in all you can do. It is said that this chapter of your life is the one you have been waiting for since you have a firmer grasp on who you are and more control over who you can be. Being older and wiser are synonymous with each other, yet you still hold the power of youth in your hands since you are barely a quarter of your way through this journey of yours on this Earth. You are only as old as you feel, and with age being a mindset, your eyes once again peer through a lens just as rose-colored as they were in your early 20s, before getting consumed by the demonic approach that your late 20s began to drown you in.
I know, I know, I am getting way ahead of myself since I am not turning 30 for another 367 days (thank you to Leap Year in 2024 for giving me an extra day to put that age off). And trust me, I am still holding onto that 2 for as long as I can with a death grip so powerful that even my nubby fingernails still leave an imprint in the palm of my hands.
Maybe it’s acceptance, or maybe it’s denial, but one thing is for certain: I don’t think I’m terrified of the hands of the clock slowly ticking forward.
However, the thing that is the most frightening to me is wasting the time that lay ahead of me.
28 has definitely taught me that nothing in life is guaranteed to give you the luxury of pushing off your happiness for the sake of an ignorant assumption that you will be granted that privilege. Whether it be with positive affirmations or negative experiences, this year has imprinted me with everlasting lessons that are gearing me up to put what I have learned to the test over the course of my next revolution. It was not pretty, and it was not swell, but hindsight will always be pretty swell.
Either way, I am grateful for who I am and to be where I am today. I still have so much left to learn, to do, to see, and to grow.
And with the journey that lay ahead of me and all that I envision for it, especially in my 29th year of life, I find myself eager and excited over how far I have to go.
In the words of Lucky Girl Syndrome:
I am so lucky. Everything works out for me.
And I know it will.
I am so proud of you, 28, and I already love you, 29.