I’m 30 today! AH! I write that statement with an equal amount of dread and excitement bubbling in my chest. As I grapple with the anxiety of what this new decade brings, I thought it would be fitting for me to sit back and reflect on all the shenanigans of this past decade. What better way to represent such a fleeting, funny, unhinged time in my life than to share tidbits in the form of all my defining shower (or car, or late night, or drunk, or high) thoughts?

My early twenties were veiled in depressive thoughts that I wouldn’t make it past 24. Once I did, I couldn’t wait to get older. I hated the constant change, insecurity, questioning, and reframing. Thirty felt like the light at the end of the tunnel, because at 30 I would do everything: a job with a retirement fund, a partner, a house, healthcare. I’m 30 now, and I guess in some really backwards way I have a very unstable assemblage of all of these. I have multiple 1099-type jobs, so I’ve had to set up a retirement manually. I was expecting to have a long-term girlfriend, but instead I have a boyfriend I love very much. I do live in a house…my parents’. I have marketplace healthcare where I shell out hundreds of dollars each month.

The rite of passage from your 20s into your 30s is a matter of accepting dialectics: I want to be young and crazy and do wild things, AND settling down sounds so incredibly relieving.

When I picture leaving my twenties, I picture the night Gina Rodriguez’s character in the film Something Great has with her two best friends. They call out of work, galavant around town running into exes, old weed connections, and RuPaul, staying up all night until they inevitably send her off to pursue her writing dream in San Francisco. It feels like I should be able to go back into moments of my twenties and live out a highlight reel with visceral emotional swells and a bittersweet ending. I don’t have a time machine or really even enough stored video footage to find some version of an Em Netflix film, but I do have 20 little thoughts from the past that pretty much represent my journey to turning 30.

I wonder what he’s up to 

The love of my life at 17 somehow crept his way into my early twenties, and then again in my late twenties when I decided to reconnect. We never actually dated, but most of my twenties were spent wondering what would’ve happened if we did.

Why did I sleep with them? 

TikTok recently presented me with a jump scare of a past hookup of mine now trying to become an influencer. I had what I thought was the best sex of my life with a white man who told me his career aspiration was to be a shaman.

He’s so hot 

The royal “he” started out as a straight, cisgender “he” before I was out and then gradually became more expansive. Regardless of gender, I spent way too much time on Lex and recklessly hitting on people in public places.

She’s so hot 

My early twenties coming out catchphrase.

Moms are so hot 

It’s a pretty gay thing to crush on moms, but I never really found myself on that train. I typically go for much younger lovers. However, halfway through 29, I suddenly saw moms for what they are: hot.

I’m going to be a nun 

I am indeed a product of the nun-to-gay pipeline.

Can I be a camp counselor for the rest of my life? 

The best summers of my life were at camp. Honestly, I’d still do camp counseling full time if I wasn’t worried about, idk, living a sustainable life.

Maybe there isn’t a right person, place, or time

I’m still convincing myself of this one. Religious trauma would have me believing otherwise.

Am I doing the right thing? 

Along the same lines as the thought above. I guess we really never know, but the difference between 20 and 30 is acceptance.

You’re right, I’m not white 

I went about my life denying my racial identity until an ex invited me to a QPOC outing. I spent most of my twenties battling with mixed race imposter syndrome.

I’m so glad I didn’t go to med school 

…like my parents wanted me to.

Maybe I should actually go to med school 

…because I would make a bombass psychiatrist.

Starting a podcast is the key to my future 

Obviously.

Moving to another country will solve all my problems 

Obviously.

Sleeping on couches isn’t so bad 

At 22, I would’ve told you I would thrive in a nomadic lifestyle. I tried that January of 2020 and then quickly realized how unsustainable that is during a global pandemic.

I need to move home 

The great debate of moving home to my conservative family or driving myself to financial ruin. I chose the latter for most of my twenties.

Am I dying? 

Did you know that illness-related OCD is a very real thing? I didn’t before, but obviously I do know now as I am fully a therapist, but I wish someone had told me sooner. Also, I had quite a few near-death experiences that genuinely warranted this question.

I miss them 

At 23, this referred to my ex. At 25, this referred to my friends. At 27, this referred to my family. Now it’s 100% my family dog, Ringo.

I don’t deserve this 

As in, I’ve been so fortunate when so many people haven’t. How is this fair?

I’m so grateful 

The other side of the coin. The one that came after my prefrontal cortex was fully developed.

I can’t believe I’ve made it this far, and even for that I’m truly lucky. Everyone I know in their thirties  is thriving, which already gives me so much hope.  Maybe this decade will bring refined chaos in the cracks of stability. Most importantly, I hope I get moments to sit back and enjoy so many of the things I worked hard to sort out, get through, and create, and take moments to pursue even bigger feats.

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