Thirty

Tomorrow, I turn 30. I’ve spent the past few weeks trying to sort out my feelings about that.

According to TV sitcoms, I should be horribly depressed about the loss of my youth. According to many 30-somethings I’ve talked to, I should be looking forward to moving on from the awkward floundering of my 20s.

But I don’t feel either of those things. I don’t feel much of anything at all.

It’s rather unusual for me to be so emotionless about something like this. Through most of my life, I have tended to infuse things with as much significance as I could, often to the point of hysteria. But this time, I just can’t seem to get myself worked up. I’m excited about the possibilities that the next few years hold, but in the end, my birthday has very little to do with that.

Why is it that I can’t seem to work up any emotion about 30? Let’s look at the situation logically, shall we? Here are the facts of the situation as I turn 30:

1. I have two degrees and a career. I love my work. There is stress and aggravation involved, but overall, I believe that my work matters and that I do it well. My name is printed in many books. Though I’ve had my share of lucky breaks, I’ve gotten where I am mostly by working hard and building a reputation for doing so. I couldn’t ask for much more, career-wise.

2. I have a home. I do not own it. It is just an apartment, and the rent is high enough that it makes me whimper a little every time that I pay it. But it’s mine. It’s really my home. After almost of decade of moving from crappy dorm room to crappy house to crappy apartment, I finally found a place worth staying in. I’ve been in the same place for over 3 years, and it feels like my home. I’m so, so grateful for that.

3. I have traveled to a dozen countries and many more cities. While there is no way to know for sure, it seems likely that I’ll have the means and the opportunity to continue to travel often in the years ahead. I’ve hiked a glacier, sheared a sheep, and climbed St. Peter’s dome. I’ve seen the Eiffel Tower, the Sistine Chapel, and the remains of the Berlin Wall. When I think of how much more there is yet to see, it makes me dizzy. Yet I know I’ve seen more before the age of 30 than many people will see in their lifetimes.

4. I have run three half marathons and one full marathon. Five years ago, I never would have believed I had that in me. Tomorrow I will run a fourth half marathon, and in the year ahead, I will train for another full marathon in honor of a friend who never made it to 30. I run in celebration of being healthy and alive and hope that I will never forget to be grateful for it.

5. Over the past fifteen years – maybe even longer – I have struggled against frequent, often debilitating bouts of social and generalized anxiety. At their worst, they left me unable to leave my apartment, breathe normally, or interact with anyone I did not know, from pizza delivery people to store cashiers. But during the last five years in particular, I have taken great strides in overcoming my anxiety issues. Recently, while having a conversation with a new friend, I had the sudden realization that she was more uncomfortable than I was. While I don’t want to rejoice in someone else’s discomfort, it was a triumphant moment for me.

6. I am not married, nor in any kind of personal relationship. I have to admit that I thought I would be, by now. This is exactly the situation that drives all the 30-year-old women in TV sitcoms to depression, and it’s something that has driven me into depression at several points in my 20s. But not now. The way I see it, I am not married, but neither am I divorced, in an abusive relationship, or unable to function as an individual. Someday, I do hope to meet my match. Whether or not I’d marry him and whether or not we’d have kids, I have no idea. These are things I would happily consider, if the right person entered my life. But he hasn’t yet, and I have found that getting married and having kids are not things I absolutely need to be happy. People often ask me whether I want to get married and want to have kids, and all I can do is shrug. All I know for sure is that neither is in my immediate future.

7. When I was 20, I had no idea that this is where I would be. If I had to guess at that point, I think I would have said that I’d be teaching undergraduate calculus at some small college and living in a midsized Midwestern town. I have no idea how I got here, really. I’m proud of where I’ve ended up, but would never claim to have planned it. And I have even less idea of where I will be in another 10 years.

So, those are the facts. What can we conclude?

I am not depressed about turning 30 because I have no reason to be. I have accomplished much and want for little. I am healthy and live comfortably. 

I am not relieved that my floundering is over because I don’t really believe that it is. I am far, far away from having everything figured out, and I don’t believe that the answers will magically reveal themselves to me tomorrow. I’m sure I will flounder all the way to 40 and beyond.

Today I am 29 and tomorrow I will be 30, and on both days I will just be trying to figure it out as I go along. That’s why don’t feel much in particular about my birthday.

Yet I will still celebrate. As satisfied as I may be with where I stand, I’m not one to squander a reason to eat cake.