As you know, I went to a WordPress conference this past weekend and had a blast. I love meeting new people and being inspired to grow. One of the commonalities among many of the women is that they had discovered the comfortability of the 30-year-old suit.
Turning 30 for some, including me, can be a quite a big deal. I had to try it on a few times before I could wrap my mind around it. “Ttthhhhhiiiiirrrrttttyyyy years old.” Me. 30. Wow. Then I asked what does it all mean? Well, I’m 33 now, and it means whatever I want it to mean.
For me, there’s a comfortability to rockin’ the 30-plus status. I feel more settled. I haven’t figured it all out, but I’m getting there and I’m much better at defining where “there” is. Too existential? OK. I’ll back up.
In my 20s it was ambition, ambition, ambition, my soulmate, career, partying, career, friends, career, ambition. I had to squeeze the most out of every second of my life. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead” was my motto.
Now, when we go on vacation, I haven’t filled every time slot with scheduled activities and our weekends aren’t double-booked for dates with friends. I’m reading fun books again. It’s nice. (I’m still not getting much sleep, but that’s more because of my 2-year-old.)
Though I’m not some zenmaster, far from it and it’s not in my Type A DNA to be that way, but I’m no longer operating at that breakneck pace, chasing, fleeing, fleeting. I have a clearer idea what I want for my life and a stronger ability to rebuff the bad. I’m no longer willing to make certain sacrifices because they’ve shown not to be worth it. I define who I am, my talents and abilities. Not them. It’s good stuff and I hear it gets better.