Turning 31
This coming Saturday marks my 31st birthday. An age that doesn’t feel particularly special or noteworthy - in fact, it feels pretty unremarkable compared to all of the hype that comes with turning 30 - but still, the sentimental part of me felt drawn to sit down and reflect.
I like to see birthdays as a sort of personal “new year”, and as such, I find myself feeling contemplative whenever one is on the horizon. This year, that urge to reflect feels even stronger - perhaps because 2020 has brought out a nostalgic, pensive side in all of us.
I can’t quite believe it’s time for me to have another birthday already - I know I’m not alone in feeling like this year has disappeared before our eyes, but it really doesn’t feel like 12 months since I was ringing in a new decade with my loved ones.
It’s easy to compare this birthday to last year’s and reflect on all that has been lost - there will be no cake and champagne shared with friends and family this year, no trip to a European city to indulge in delicious food and culture. But instead, I wanted to focus on the good. Because the truth is, as challenging as this year has been, it has also been full of growth and joy and gratitude. There has been positive change amidst the chaos and the sadness, and that’s what I want to reflect on as I creep closer to turning 31.
In the run up to turning 30, I feel like change was fast and huge. There was something about that looming deadline that inspired me to take swift action - I pivoted my career, I left my job, I started to lean into a whole different way of living. This year, however, change has felt slow. There are still some big shifts since this time last year - like becoming a student again, for example - but mostly, the changes I’ve experienced in the past 12 months have been a gentle unravelling, a steady courtship with myself, an unrushed but deliberate reacquaintance with my own values and dreams.
Of course, the global pandemic has had a lot to do with that. When the country ground to a halt back in March, I realised that so many of my usual coping mechanisms (travel, planning things, surrounding myself with people) were no longer available to me. Instead of having a plethora of easy distractions to help me through the many ups and downs of life, I had to ground myself - to get better at feeling my feelings, to learn to self soothe, to tune into what I really wanted out of life, instead of simply trying to keep up with those around me.
It’s been a slow process, and one that has felt frustrating at times. But by having those quick fixes taken away, I’ve had no excuse but to do the harder and deeper work. I’ve let go of the dreams and goals that were never really mine. I’ve started therapy to help me get better at working through my feelings. I’ve embraced the discomfort and imposter syndrome that comes with growing and evolving.
But I’ve also got better at leaning into joy - a simpler, quieter, more real joy than I’ve experienced before. Without the distraction of holidays or a jam-packed schedule, I’ve been able to realise how much beauty and love exists in my everyday life. I’ve been able to connect with what is truly most important to me. When I look back on my happiest moments from this year - laughing and dancing with my husband in our kitchen, celebrating wonderful news with my family, chasing my nephew around a park - I am reminded that the best moments in life are often the simplest.
I once read somewhere that your twenties are spent trying to become someone you’re not, and your thirties are spent trying to reconnect to who you really are. That couldn’t be more true of my experience this year. It hasn’t looked remotely like what I expected being 30 to look like, but I’ll be entering this second year of my thirties feeling more grounded and “me” than I have done in a really long time. And I think that’s something worth raising a glass to.
