30, thirty, THIRTY, now it sounds weird. Thirty isn’t that old, right? When I was a child, you know back in the day, thirty seemed so OLD. It seemed so far from where I was in time, thirty seemed like an amazing adventure a lifetime away. Thirty was my mother’s age, yikes. If you were thirty you were an adult, you had a family, a job, you had your shit together. In my child mind thirty meant you knew what you were doing. I’ve got news, thirty is a lie.
Thirty is a big fat liar liar pants on fire. I am now as old as my mother was when I was 6 and I don’t feel like I have my shit together at all. I don’t feel like I know what the hell I am doing, in fact I know I don’t know what I am doing. I have a wonderful husband, we have a spoiled rotten dog who I love like a tiny human, I’ve got a job and i still don’t feel like I know what I am doing. I don’t feel old enough, for anything. I don’t feel old enough to be an adult, is that a problem? Surely there are people that are thirty that do feel like an adult, right?
Let’s go back…
When I was 17 I got my license, I didn’t feel like I was old enough to be driving a giant metal box with bald tired that was surely a death trap, I had a job and I was getting ready to graduate from high school. I didn’t feel old enough then and I still don’t now.
Growing up is hard, growing up makes you realize how much you DON’T know and how much you still have to learn. No one ever knows it all but it takes half a lifetime to figure that out.
At 17 I had already had a life saving liver transplant, I was taking more medications than all the old people I knew, put together. I was an over protected teenager who was more “grown up” than most teens, well in no way was I grown up but merely more responsible, for the most part.
At 24 I had a real job, one with health benefits and a retirement plan, cubicles and punch cards. At 24 I had a somewhat reliable vehicle, a 1987 Toyota Pick-up to be exact. Old blue was a sweet low rider in the 1987 13″ tires and springless leaf springs kinda way, complete with working air horn mounted proudly on the hood. It got me where I needed to go and that was good enough for me at 24. I loved that truck, it was my baby. The truck isn’t the point though, I was 24 with a job, a car, an apartment I shared with my then boyfriend and a dog. I had it all right? I knew it all right? I thought I did.
in the summer of 2008 I was 24 and I found my self in the hospital with a wonderfully terrifying case of meningitis. Men-in-freakin-gitis! What an unbelievable series of events my life was turning into. Turns out I didn’t know it all. I didn’t know my name, the days of the week, or the months, I couldn’t tell time on an analog clock and I had no fucking Idea I had turned into “ten second tom” from 50 first dates. I didn’t know I was asking the same questions I had asked 16 times in a row. At 24 my brain was so swollen it was killing off pieces of itself Just to survive. My body was working against me at that point, my whole right side was useless. I left the hospital in a wheelchair unable to use my right arm or leg. Wonderful, defiantly not getting back to that kayaking trip I had planned or really anything that involved getting out of a wheelchair.
At 25 I was still doing physical therapy and I was down to just using a cane and a brace to walk. I had gained everything back, aside from a few memories and use of my lower leg. So at 25 I had no job, a significantly overwhelmed boyfriend who wasn’t ready for this level of responsibility, an apartment we could barely afford and Old Blue was now a permanent fixture in our driveway. At 25 I knew I didn’t know it all, I knew I didn’t know anything. Life had thrown me two very big bumps in my road, not bumps, not hills, mountains, the Mount Everest of obstacles and I had over come them. At 25 I knew I was still here, I knew what hadn’t killed me did in fact make me stronger as they say. But I had some shit to figure out, some serious adult shit. I still didn’t feel like an adult but clearly it was time to start acting like one, surely that would work out.
So I’m 30, I don’t feel old, I don’t feel old enough, ever and I realize now its all just an act. No one know what the hell they are doing. I’m 30 and I am married, with a dog, a job, health insurance, a place to live and a car. I don’t see anywhere that it says I need to feel like an adult, I have to at least pretend to be one though. I am the adult at my job with kids, and I don’t feel old enough to tell them what to do, but I’m getting better at it. I’m 30 and I am getting better at pretending to know what an adult should feel like. I’m 30, I’m 5’2″ and I am an adult who gets offered children menus at Friendly’s and NOT carded at the liquor store. 30 isn’t old, I don’t know anything, I don’t “feel” like an adult, and I’m not sure we ever do feel like an “adult” that knows what the hell they are doing. I think being an adult is a lie and no one has a freaking clue.
wait…. sonofabitch, I’m 31, damn you getting old brain…. damn you!