Another Decade

Whatever amount of knowledge we soaked up like sponges in our first two decades of life are put to the test and rung out like a wet mop in our twenties. The twenties are for trial and error. For making mistakes and learning as you go. Sometimes learning the hard way and sometimes not learning the lesson at all. In our twenties we feel like there is still so much time for us to get it right. We are so forgiving of ourselves because of this. We let so many things slip through the cracks and put so much off for “someday”.  The twenties were stubborn and naïve. They were filled with answers we thought we had, to questions we thought we knew—later to find out, we really didn’t know all that much about anything at all. But we sure did have fun.

The early twenties were for sleeping in (sometimes all day) and staying up at hours that our later-selves would never tolerate. The early twenties were spent cramming for exams, faking it till you make it, riding the wave, and often doing just enough to keep our heads above water. It was looking the part and trying to fool everyone into thinking we had any clue at all. We were sinking and flailing daily, but had this innocence about us, that made us believe everything would somehow pan out…that we were somehow going to make it out okay…that everything we could ever want was still in reach. That it was perfectly okay to be messy and wild and reckless. That it was okay to play “adult” while we still very much felt like children. That we still had time on our side.

We had these absurd insecurities and hang-ups-- and oh so many hangovers. We were our own worst enemies. It was wells vodka and shots of Jägermeister seeping through our pores. It was heavy pours and poor decisions. It was not knowing our limits but testing them all the time. It was having little, to no boundaries at all. It was drinking so much that every single one of our stories from that that decade are hazy--like trying to retell the sequence and the exact details of a once vivid dream. At times we felt untouchable, immortal even—jumping off of rooftops and diving headfirst into too shallow of waters. Jumping into relationships and for some of us, diving headfirst into marriage. Some of us were hopeful romantics, so eager to get started…to enter the real world. We couldn’t wait to get started.

We were beautiful, but we didn’t fully know it or appreciate it back then. We were brilliant but not always sure of what exactly to do with our brilliance. We were lost most of the time, undecided of what to do and unsure of what was to come. Our twenties contained multiple milestones, always followed by what seemed like setbacks. It’s looking back now and realizing how those setbacks were much needed lessons. And realizing how good we had it back then. How pure and simple those friendships were. How those “twenty-something-year-old stresses” were really nothing to stress about. Not knowing how much harder life would get. How resilient you were and how that resilience would be needed for years to come-- after you got that diploma, earned that degree, and ventured out of that small college town. Not knowing what your future held. Not knowing where to go or what to do next. Interviewing for jobs you had no business applying to, with little- to no experience or qualifications. Being offered jobs you weren’t prepared to take. Taking jobs that you weren’t ready for. The world was eager to knock you down every chance it got—making you weep like a baby into your upper twenties. Making you really miss your childhood days. Making you realize how fragile you in fact are and how invincible you are not.

It was that nagging voice in the back of your mind that popped up any time you had a single second to yourself—while driving your car, walking your dog, vacuuming your apartment—it was the voice that begged the questions: Who am I really? Why am I here? What is my purpose?  You did your best to tie it all to your profession, in a perfect bow—not knowing that’s only part of the puzzle, but it isn’t all of it.

 You blink and your thirty.

The thirties were for repairing and rebuilding. A renewal of sorts. Getting things in order. Getting your head right. Getting your act together. Getting your ducks in a row. Getting a handle on things. Facing those hard nagging questions that were chipping away at you for so long. In your thirties, you wipe your tears, put on your big girl pants, and get to work.

No one tells you this, but the thirties actually contain many firsts. First big decisions that will possibly shape the rest of your life. First gray hairs on your head. First house. First mortgage. First time being called “mama” by a small person who you birthed, instead of a guy driving by you in his pickup truck.

Whether you tie the knot, land your dream job, become a parent-- or not—your thirties are a battle ground. You have to cling to what you think you know and to what you believe is right for you—and it doesn’t come easy, you must fight for it. You have to prove to your boss that you’re worth the raise. Prove to your partner that you’re not falling apart. Prove to your parents that you know how to best parent. Prove to your kids that they are safe and in good hands. Prove to yourself that you’re going to make it…whatever that means.

In your early thirties you don’t fully know who you really are—yet. But you know quite certainly what you’re not. You don’t fully know what you’re capable of, but you’re willing to try and find out. You don’t know exactly what you want out of life or out of your relationships—but you can now detect when something feels right and when something feels forced or inauthentic. You start to worry less about what everyone else might think about you or say to you or about you-- and slowly you start to care more about what you think and feel. You begin to value yourself more and you let go of the need to win over everyone else. You start to put up guardrails and set boundaries so that the world doesn’t eat you alive—because it easily can---and so that you don’t fully lose your way or your spark or yourself completely. To some it might look like you’ve become jaded or turned cold, but you know it by name—it’s love. Self-love. You drink and consume less crap and you feed your soul more.

In this decade you must be strong because you’ll feel attacked from all angles at times. People will try to stop you from reaching your greatness. They will try to drag you down, hold you down, keep you down—they will reject the new and improved you. They won’t be happy for any bit of success you achieve. Some might even look at your accomplishments and call them “luck”. And it will take several hard crash courses of betrayal and lies and uncomfortable conflicts and conversations before you are able to become brave enough to choose you—over and over again. So, you start to end things that no longer fit—you end false friendships and you walk away from disrespectful relationships. You leave the job that didn’t value your priorities or compensate you appropriately for your time. You leave the notion that being a parent means always sacrificing all of your wants and desires to cater to your children’s. You leave the notion that being a good partner means compromising everything and putting their needs above yours. And you start to find a healthy balance in life as you learn to listen to your own voice again.

The same questions resurface from before: Why am I here? What is my purpose? You do your best to tie it to your family life and maybe that’s part of the puzzle, but its isn’t all of it.

Your thirties are a time of significant loss. You will lose the urge to please everyone. To over explain. To apologize. To repeat yourself. To accommodate. To overcompensate. To sugarcoat. To apologize for things, you didn’t even do. To walk on egg shells. To hold back. To silence yourself. To fit in. To blend in. To downplay. To play games. To waste time. To avoid issues. To avoid conflict. To keep the peace. The voice within becomes so loud that it cannot be muted or put on “snooze”. It must be heard and dealt with. It takes you telling yourself YES over and over and over again, to counterbalance all of the hard “no’s” that will be slung at you.

Again, you’ll find yourself feeling fragile quite often and isolated and unheard and unseen by many—except when in the presence of a select few. Your circle becomes smaller and smaller and you my dear, you are at the center of it. You realize that you’re the captain of the ship and that you get-to choose which direction to steer it. And at the end of the day and at the end of your life line (whether its tomorrow morning or 5 decades from now, all you really have is yourself. So, you better learn to trust yourself and love yourself well.

One of the biggest lessons in your thirties, is how to align yourself and balance everything. How to do all the things that you need to do and all the things you want to do, and still have space for the ones you love and value and also some time to rest and reset. You will also realize and accept that there is no perfect balance ever, just a steadiness in life, a flow in your day-to-day that carries you and relies heavily on your ability to adapt and adjust to whatever comes your way. To look into the mirror and see the lines on your face, the bags under your eyes, the stretchmarks on your chest, the gathering skin around your navel and with it all to be able to say “I’m not here to complain about you, or even to try and fix you. I am here to love you. Life is too short to criticize and hate on the very vehicle that has carried me to this very moment”. The thirties are humbling. You realize you’re no longer the “it” girl. You realize you don’t have it all figured out—not even close. You realize that your life isn’t always what you thought it would be. You embrace failure and you wear your heart on your sleeve and are more mindful of surrounding yourself with those who do the same. Small talk becomes lame and real connection becomes essential. And you realize you really do still have time on your side and so much more to learn and give. And so much more growing to do.

In your later thirties you dig a bit deeper and you start to finally do the things you always wanted to do, but were never brave enough to admit to yourself that those are the things you were missing all along. The things you would daydream of but brush off—the things you loved doing 2-3 decades ago, the things that keep you up at night with anticipation, the things that light you up and pass time faster than anything else you’ve ever done. Finally, these are the things that now take priority. From there everything starts to click into place. So, this is love. So, this is belonging. So, this is passion. So, this is purpose. So, this is happiness.

As your thirties wind down and you take that final lap around the sun, turning the corner and catching a glimpse of the next decade on the horizon—I hope you too feel at peace. I hope you get to greet the big 4-0 with all the confidence and all the hope your soul has ever known. We want very basic things in this new decade. We want love around us as much as possible--in art, in music, in good company, in solitude, in the ocean waves, on the mountain tops, in your partner’s eyes and in your children’s laugher. It can be found in the people who tell it to you straight. People who truly see you for who you are and love you unconditionally. People who are willing to tell you, “no”—to your face--and by now you’re strong enough to not just take it but to appreciate that kind of honesty. By now you’ve learned how to be truly happy for others…and you expect the same in return…knowing we all have different paths, different purposes on this planet and that it’s foolish to compare chapters of totally different life stories.

You blink and your forty.

Every year on my birthday I state that I don’t feel any different than I did the day before--or even that different than I did the year before, but forty isn’t the new twenty or the new thirty. This decade is in fact different from the rest. The ground work is done. The foundation is set. Turning forty has me feeling like a well-trained Olympic runner who has been stretched out and is now in lunging position eagerly awaiting the sound of the blowhorn so that I can kick off the ground—full throttle—in the direction my heart leads me to.

I believe the life we were born to live truly starts now. Here, we run past living for others. We run past other’s expectations of us. We run past the “shoulds” and the “shouldn’ts”. We run past the people pleasing. We run past the rules and the regulations. We run past the limits of our minds, and even of our bodies—and we come into our own. I can’t say with certainty what happens at forty because today is my very first day here—but I’m pretty sure it’s the age I’ll be when everything I’ve been working towards comes together and my life, the life of my dreams, turns to reality. I enter this new decade with nothing but gratitude for the journey that led me here. Sound the blowhorn. This girl is ready to run.