Turning thirty

So it happened to me too. I made it to my 30s. I didn’t really celebrate my birthday. I wanted a low key day, so I went to a farm with Artur. As I get older, I enjoy being the centre of attention less and less.

It’s true what they say. It feels the same, nothing has changed, age is just a number. But you still talk about it, what it means to no longer be in your 20s. To undisputedly be an adult. And the most recurring topic – whether you plan to have kids or not.

I feared it, turning thirty. To no longer being ‘young and carefree’. Not that it matters that much. So far, every year seems better than the last. I just wish I had done a better job in my 20s. Been less of an idiot, kinder to others and aware of the world. Cared less about stupid things and more on developing myself. I wish I had paid more attention at uni. I have a degree but I don’t remember a thing.

I know it’s common to feel this way. It’s natural to look back on your younger self and feel embarrassed, even ashamed at your own behaviour. I didn’t realise it at the time, but I can now see clearly how insecure and self absorbed I was. I still have my insecurities but I feel more comfortable with myself and more aware of the world and people around me. I try to not be a terrible person.

I feel sad knowing that the older I get, the less time I will have with my parents. I try to make the most of the time I have them. I’m old enough now to appreciate everything they have done for me and enjoy spending time with them.

When I was 20, I pictured my life at 30 much differently to how it is now. What I pictured was what probably most females are programmed to want. I didn’t get the kids (thank god for that), career (have no desire for that anymore), fancy wedding (waste of time and money), husband (we only got married for visa reasons so I don’t consider Artur my husband). Basically I didn’t get anything I thought I wanted and yet I am very happy.