Goddammit I’m Thirty—How In The Hell Did That Happen: A Personal Reflection

So I have, as of recently, officially entered into the realm of 3-0; the number that in my childhood days, I used to view with carefree disdain, as the epitome of ancient. And yet—with the blink of time’s eye, I have arrived; I am now officially ancient. I must confess I was not enthusiastically looking forward to this. Mind you it had nothing to do with any sort of feminine vanity against ageing (okay, well maybe a little bit of that) but it had more to do with the fact that my life really hasn’t gone according to plan.

Why people continue to have this endless fascination to plan a life that is staunchly unpredictable is beyond me—but I count myself as one of those folks. Being of fruitful imagination and creative disposition, I’ve always had grandiose ideas of what exactly I was going to be. To say that these ideas haven’t come close to fruition would be the understatement of a century; everything in my life, from events to people—is far less than I imagined it to be.

So I kept looking at myself and feeling always that I came up short—if I came up at all. As a result of this I learned—quite astutely—to throw myself one hell of a pity party; life sucks—pure and simple. But you know the one thing about pity parties is that although decadent in their self-indulgence they honestly do nothing for you. One of the things that I used to hate—and still do to a degree—is when someone in an attempt to break up this pity party, would remind me that there are others who have it far worse. Like somehow thinking about all the starving children and adults eating out of a garbage can would be a perfect way to brighten up my mood. This type of rationale—reaping your self-worth in juxtaposition to others is exactly what puts you in a funk in the first place, because while they may be others that are worse off—there are definitely others that are better.

Thinking about this—and the screwed up perspective—I began to realize that my problem with life, and thirty, is that I was basing my happiness on a perception. The perception of success is one of the most powerful myths of mankind and there is not a single person that at some point in their life hasn’t been sucked into it. And for me, nothing creates more discontentment than that logic—because if you don’t measure up—and even if you do—your left with a feeling of emptiness at a loss that you had no hand in creating.

So it is with this—this concept that I take and embrace at my now thirty years of life. Do I still plan—yeah old habits are hard to break; but I do it with the knowledge of two things—I know nothing and I control nothing—so it is my task to simply live, and to learn from that which I live. And at thirty and counting, my story isn’t over—yet.

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