Why I love being 30

 

When I was in my 20’s, I was dreading crossing the threshold to 30. Like that big, round number would somehow change everything and my life would be irreparably over.

 

Then the day came (and went) and I realised I that being 30 did indeed change everything – for the better.

 

I am serious you guys. Since I’ve been in my thirties I feel like I’ve been on this journey to discover myself in an all new way and you know what I found? I’m actually pretty awesome.

 

Yes, I know I could have come to this revelation a lot sooner but I don’t think I was ever going to get this comfortable with myself in my twenties. I was a shivering wreck of self-doubt and second guesses and so hell bent on achieving things I forgot who was I doing all that stuff for.  But Now I’m here, and I ❤ being 30. Here’s why:

 

 

Old enough to know better, young enough to get away with it.

Just because I’m post-30 doesn’t mean I’m suddenly an adult and sensible and responsible AF. No Sir. It just means that I am much more aware of the consequences of the bad decisions I make, but I’m still OK to get away with them. I can still be hungover at the office on a school day, or spend far too much money on a top I don’t really need which causes me to eat 13p noodles for the rest of the month. But I know that’s going to happen because life experience, yo and I can still swing it like it’s just one of those things people do when they’re young and irresponsible… because I can still be that.

 

No more crippling insecurities.

I used to hate my wobbly belly and my crooked teeth that never straightened themselves out regardless of years of torture with braces. I hated my chubby cheeks and that scar on my nose and how my hair always looks like a nest for very messy birds. And I thought everyone else looked so lovely, all the time, and I was the only ugly duckling in the group. Then I hit 30 and realised that no one gives a fuck. If we knew how little people care about the shit we obsess over we’d all probably be mortally offended. And suddenly my wobbly belly became MY wobbly belly and it stopped bothering me. And my life became ultimately better when I stopped caring so much about every single imperfection I have.

 

Still no idea what I’ll be when I grow up – and that’s OK.

OK – so I have had the good fortune of landing a job in an editorial team where I get to use my Journalism degree. And I have a blog that I love very, very much (this one and my hyper local beer blog). But if you’d ask me if this is what I’m going to do for the rest of my life I could not tell you. And that’s OK. I don’t have to have everything figured out just because I went past 30. As Baz Luhrmann said, “The most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don’t.” I’ll keep making choices that feel right at the time and see where they take me.

 

Knowing myself and loving myself better.

Once you’ve spent 30+ years with yourself it’s kind of fair to assume you know yourself pretty well. At least better than you did, say, 10 years ago. And after careful empiric research on the subject matter of myself I have concluded that I am pretty awesome and that I like myself. I spent years hating myself and having that hate pour into everything around me and I cannot tell you how liberating it is to realise that I am definitely not even of a fraction as awful as I thought I was. And that it’s OK to accept myself as the imperfect and unfinished entity that I am and take care of myself in any way that makes me feel good about myself; bathing, eating, drinking, socialising (or not) anything that makes my lovely, wobbly body and sharp mind know I love it. ❤❤

 

Not caring what other people think anymore.

I don’t mean that I can do whatever the fuck I want and everyone just has to accept it because that’s just me, no. That’s a whole different kettle of fish. I mean that I don’t care if people like me anymore. They don’t have to think I am as awesome as I think I am. It’s OK. I don’t care what they think about the way I dress. I dress for myself and not for anyone else. I don’t care what they think about my life choices (as long as I don’t affect anyone else but myself with them) because it’s none of their business. And – I also have realised people care a lot less about my stuff than I think they do.

 

Getting content.

My life doesn’t have to be fireworks and rainbows and explosions anymore. I find that true happiness is just being content. But when I say content, I don’t mean settling for anything less than what you think you’re worth; I mean that I am not left wanting. Being content means that what you have is enough. And it’s OK to be still and things to be enough. It’s OK to not have to constantly do better and bigger and more. I think this is the epiphany I seriously love the most.

 

 

What do you think guys? Is 30 the new black? Hit me up in the comments.

  • This is such a lovely post. Cheers to the freaking 30’s

  • Meghna

    I personally think 30s is when you feel the sexiest and the most secure. I am loving my 30s.

  • Ally

    Amazing post. To be honest I´m so afraid of my 30. I ´m reading from every side that these years are one of the best years, so I really hope it will be like it, haha 😀

    Ally,
    http://www.inspo-book.blogspot.com

  • I think once you hit 30, you become a little more intentional. Where in your 20’s one might act without thought to the consequences, now you can see them coming and be prepared for such. Lol. I love my 30’s too…just wish they would slow down!

  • Chloe

    Hi, I agree with all of your points, my 30’s have been full of so much fun, I wish I could repeat some of them again, Chloe.