Thoughts on turning 30
I smile, inside and out. Content, at ease, understanding. I’m 30 guys, and this is what it’s all about.
I am thankful my 20’s are behind me. A decade lost, a decade wasted, a decade spent grinding myself down, eating myself to obesity, working myself to a physical and mental wasteland. 10 years of what ifs, if onlys, and no chances.
I learned, I ignored, I shot myself down. Pride in my youth but what a waste. What I could have done in those 10 years. But look at me now. I’m smiling because I understand. I get it. I reflect back, and I know myself now.
And I’m here. Older. Wiser. Armed with a full heart and a bucket full of cliches.
We make plans, our little bubble of Goodlands. We talk and plan and look forward to a life to be lived. We discover aims and ambitions and know there is nothing holding us back. We peel layers and talk some more. The world, that beautiful world, is ours and the years stretch out ahead, shimmering with hope and love and knowledge.
I broke myself at 29. In a different way, always a new way to break. You shatter and panic, feel fragmented, wildly grabbing at any shard of hope, placing, projecting your plans and dreams onto anything you can touch and grab. Dervish, tornado, thoughts, heartbeats.
And then, my world slowed. Peace. Birds and rainbows and watery skies, a wash, a fresh, flaxen sun rising, shining, warming. A starting point. My 20’s screwed me up and spat me out, in a torrent of grey, whirlpool foaming, shivering, newborn.
I start here then. There is a truth in this new decade. A mutual agreement with my crazy mind, with my ragged body, with my delicate soul.
This decade is for all of us. I hear you now. I hear myself. I know myself.