I can’t be the only one.
The only one what, you ask?
The only 30-something whose life has gone in every direction except the one that was planned out in their post-college 5-year and 10-year plans.
There is such an overwhelming amount of focus on where you should be by the time you reach your 30’s. There are all of those fabulous 30-under-30 lists. Techies. Restaurateurs. Entrepreneurs. You’re bombarded with these success stories, and more often than not, instead of feeling inspired, you end up feeling worse about yourself because you’re nowhere near there. Whatever, or wherever, there is.
Then there are those articles in magazines that tell you what you should be doing and buying during each decade of your life. You know:
“In your 20’s, you’re just starting out so invest in a few key pieces from Club Monaco or the like, and get ready to enter the world, you fierce warrior! Ditch the college attire and dress to look the part!”
“In your 30’s, you’re well on your way to becoming established, or maybe you’ve already reached that point. You’ve had several years to start building up your savings account, and you probably have extra room in your budget to spend on non-essential things. Good for you! Now’s the time to upgrade your wardrobe and invest in some long-term pieces, like a good piece of jewelry, a handbag, or a Burberry trench. ”
“In your 40’s, blah blah blah.”
I understand that articles like these shouldn’t be taken seriously (it’s the price you pay for reading fashion/lifestyle magazines in the first place), but at the same time, it makes you wonder what exactly went wrong in your life that you’re practically living paycheck to paycheck.
There is so much pressure to have your sh!t together by the time you reach your 30’s. You should be established in a career, you should have a partner, you should have a baby before you’re 35 (don’t want those eggs to dry up!), you should have a savings account and rainy day money, you should invest in something, you should think about buying versus renting. You should be having serious, intelligent conversations at cocktail parties, have a solid business network, and you should be living in a place not solely furnished through Ikea and Goodwill. You should definitely have learned to be socially graceful, and should know how to strike up an interesting conversation with someone. You should know what you want to do with your life.
In my typo-ridden reality:
I have a husband but we don’t have kids (unless you count our cat). We have a practically non-existent savings account. Neither of us has an established career. I prefer to joke around and be sarcastic (sincerity is not my strong point). I spontaneously bust out in dance moves that are reminiscent of some of the worst contestants on So You Think You Can Dance, and my personality can be described as “quirky” (if we’re being generous) or “weird” (if we’re being downright honest). My husband has lovingly called me a cartoon several times over.
The “temporary” furniture and other items that we first started out with in our apartment in New York ended up being permanent because we could never afford to upgrade to nicer, more “adult” pieces. I never had my nails done, I didn’t have a regular stylist (I just went to whatever place had a special promo on haircuts), and I couldn’t afford some of the membership or entrance fees to the various networking events that took place around the city. I despise small talk, am socially awkward, and having to make up some conversation with a stranger makes my palms sweat.
To add onto the list of all the “shoulds” that we didn’t successfully achieve by the time we’d reached our 30’s: my husband couldn’t find a job and was unemployed for a long time, my job didn’t pay enough to support the two of us, we ran through our savings trying to make ends meet, we finally called it quits on NYC, and moved. Not just out of the city or the state, but out of the US.
Had you told me back when I was 21 that I would be married by the age of 24 to a South African guy I met in Japan while we were both working there, and that our journey would continue to take us from Japan, through New York, and end up in Africa, dirt broke, I would have laughed and snorted “Please.” I had it together, and I had a plan back then (ah, naiveté). I was in a serious relationship with a guy I thought I was in love with. I was sure that we were going to get married and build a fabulous life together in Boston (where I was living at the time). We would travel, have cute kids, and grow old together on the East Coast. Of course, later on I found out that he was manic-depressive, horrible with money, turning into a coke-head, and I wasn’t in love with him after all.
Never, in my wildest dreams, would I have thought that I’d end up on the African continent, starting over.
Oh, and I still have no idea what I want to do with my life.
But so it goes. Life pulls a fast one on you, and you just have to go with it – typos, quirks, and all.
Typos and Quirks 