30
I turned 30 last August and celebrated like any self respecting extrovert--by requesting that every one of my twelve best friends go on vacation with me to celebrate. We went to the beach and to Harry Potter World, there were dinners in NYC and day-long one on one dates. My husband bought me my dream handbag and my all time favorite pair of jeans. I bought myself a bottle of SK-II Facial Treatment Essence. (If you don't know what that is, please don't look it up. You don't need to know how much I spent on it.) Wait, this is a standard level birthday celebration for everyone, right? ... No? Well. If you didn't already know that I'm extra, now you do.
Yesterday was my half birthday, also known as the 6 month anniversary of me trying to write something earth shattering about being 30. So clearly I have no 30 year old wisdom about how to get things done in a timely manner.
I wasn't in a particular panic about turning 30--I already had my quarter life crisis at 25, and frankly 29 was a tough year of my life. This birthday was a fresh start. But there were still things looming--the crushing weight of expectations that society puts on women as they age, the even more ludicrous expectations I put on myself specific to turning 30. The idea that my 20s were over and all was lost, that I had lost a battle with time, that it was too late to start anything new. The fact that I was 30 and still not a mother. That it was all just damage control and settling from here. However, for those staring 30 in the face, I'm happy to tell you that negative reports have been exaggerated.
The truth is that getting older is an incredible privilege. Every day that we have the opportunity to become more like Jesus, to become more of ourselves, to love other people better is an incredible gift. My 20s, and particularly the last half of 29 and first 6 months of 30 have been the most formative of my life. People throw the phrase "life-changing" around casually, but I mean it sincerely. The way I approach life has been completely and permanently changed and I am so thankful for the days behind me.
You can ask any of my friends and they'll tell you--as the first one to turn 30 and the self-professed group mom, I love offering advice on everything. Challenges, dating, diets, work, whatever. But I feel utterly absurd offering life advice to the internet at large. It's why I've waited so long to share this. Because it seems inherently presumptuous to suggest that you need any of my advice--it's not like I know anything revolutionary. But alas, what is writing about turning 30 if it doesn't include some mint condition 30 year old wisdom? If I get to be 80 I promise some higher quality suggestions given with absolutely no hesitation. 80 year olds have that kind of authority. In the meantime, I'm going to think of this not as advice I'm giving you but as an information share--because that makes me feel less awkward.
God speaks to us through opened and closed doors, so when the door is open, do the thing. Don’t talk about doing it for months on end in the name of "praying about it". Pray about it for a week max and then just do it. In my case that meant Jared and I selling cars and furniture and basically all the home-related wedding gifts we had been given two years earlier and moving to New York City. The week of an epic blizzard. With no where to live and no jobs. We saw an opening in our lives and we saw God's hand in it so we jumped, and I have never been sorry for a moment about taking that leap. On the other hand, the door to Jared and I becoming parents has been solidly closed. I haven't understood why--I still struggle with it. But just in the last few months I've started to see how this time before children, even though it wasn't my choice, has been a precious gift from God, a time to focus on my friendships and my own development in a way that I likely couldn't with a tiny human in tow.
Commitment is only scary from the outside. I am a self professed commitment-phobe. It’s kept me from committing to plans, people, jobs, careers… It very nearly kept me from committing to marriage. But the reality is that commitment is the most blissful form of freedom. Obviously you want to be discerning about what you commit to, but when you see something or someone worthwhile, jump into it. Commitment turns the staggering, debilitating weight of unlimited choices into a framework that lets you experience the very best version of something. The paradox of freedom through commitment is one of the most revolutionary lessons I’ve learned.
You are capable of so much more than you think. I just started truly learning about myself in the past year. In 2017, one month at a time, I did something I didn’t think I could possibly do. I gave up meat. Sugar. Alcohol. TV. Coffee. I gave up coffee you guys. For years I told myself I couldn't possibly do anything like this--I just wasn't wired to be disciplined, I loved sugar too much, I was dependent on coffee, etc etc, excuses for days. As it turns out, self control is a learned skill, a muscle you can build up. It's highly rewarding and honestly addicting--the kind of mastery over self that you are capable of is incredibly powerful.
Be confrontational. Not for no reason, not in a rude way. But tell people when you’re upset or hurt and ask them to talk to you when it seems like they’re upset. Be willing to end an argument by telling someone you are sorry--even if you don't think you're the one who is wrong. Especially when you think you haven't done anything wrong--which is me, 99% of the time. There are lost friendships from my early 20s that I'm not sure will ever be recovered because I didn't do this. It’s 5 minutes of being uncomfortable that results in instantly strengthened relationships. Some of the most powerful moments of my life have been moments of vulnerability and reconciliation.
Build a community of people where you live. Jared and I have been hashtag blessed with an incredible group of friends in our city, a crew that is the bread and butter of our lives here. They are our tribe, our pack, our people. It's not our career or our apartment or our stuff that makes New York City home. For the last 4 years of our lives the most meaningful things have been serving and loving and living with these people who have become our family. It’s hard and messy and it’s the best thing.
In yoga (hands down the most formative activity that I picked up while I was 29) you’re often asked to set an intention for your practice--a focus to come back to when you're not sure you can make it through that balance pose, something to send your energy to. Before my birthday, I decided to set an intention for this year of being 30, a cornerstone for my every day. If we've had a face to face conversation in the past 12 months, you know there are a lot of things in my life that I don’t have control over right now—I mean, how much control do any of us have over the external forces impacting our lives? You know, like the MTA refusing to work. In the past this has filled me with anxiety and layer upon layer of stress and frankly even anger. I don't want to live like that anymore.
So this year I committed to a Year of Zen. Not Zen like the Merriam-Webster definition, so please don’t send me your “are you a Buddhist now” concerns (you know who you are). I’m taking artistic license with the word because I like how concise it is. What I mean by Zen is these three things: acceptance, release, and focus. Acceptance of situations, people, and circumstance. Release of control, demands, and expectations. And Focus on the nature of God, and a dedication to seeing God at work around me.
I hope that whatever else the last six months of being 30 is for me, whatever the next year of life is for you, that we both experience it as an incredible blessing. Time we've been given to discover more about ourselves, learn more about the Father, live more like Jesus, and feel the Spirit at work in our lives.
Love, Precious Flowers