LOOKING BACK: 30 YEARS OF MY LIFE
I turned thirty this year.
I wish I could say I celebrated with champagne and fireworks, but honestly, it felt quieter than I expected. A little like sitting down after a long hike — tired, a bit dusty, but also strangely content. Thirty doesn’t feel old, but it does feel like a place you can stop for a moment, look back at the trail, and finally see how far you’ve come.
I’ve been thinking a lot about how these three decades have shaped me. The big moments, of course — school, jobs, relationships — but also the tiny, almost invisible ones that stuck to me like glitter I can’t quite wash off. The way I flinch when I hear a certain song. The coffee mug I bought when I moved out at 22 and still use every morning. The people who walked in and out of my life without realizing how much they changed me.
Growing up
I grew up in a small place where everyone kind of knew each other. My childhood was safe and predictable, which at the time I didn’t appreciate, but now I realize is a gift. Back then, I thought the world was as small as the distance from my house to school, with a few side streets in between.
But once I left for college, that bubble burst. Suddenly there were people who spoke differently, thought differently, lived differently. I remember my first roommate teaching me how to eat with chopsticks and thinking, How did I make it eighteen years without learning this?
I once spent an entire afternoon in my early twenties just walking around a neighborhood I’d never been to, pretending I lived there. It sounds silly now, but that day opened my eyes to how much I’d been living inside my comfort zone.
The messy middle of my 20s
If my late teens were about expanding my world, my twenties were about stumbling through it. I changed jobs more than I care to admit. I moved apartments so often that I could probably pack a kitchen in under two hours. I fell in love too quickly and stayed too long in places that weren’t right for me.
There was a lot of learning the hard way. I wanted so badly to “figure it all out,” but I didn’t even know what “it” was.
There was one winter when I was broke, single, and completely unsure of what I was doing with my life. I remember sitting in my apartment with a blanket wrapped around me, eating oatmeal for dinner because it was the only thing I could make with what I had left in the pantry. I didn’t cry that night. I just sat there and thought, “Well…this is real life, I guess.” And somehow, that made me feel less lost, not more.
Looking back, those in-between years were messy, but they were also the most transformative. I didn’t feel like I was growing at the time — but now I see I was building a kind of resilience that only comes from failing, adjusting, and trying again.
What I carried forward
There’s something about turning thirty that makes you see what you’ve been dragging with you. The habits, beliefs, and small survival skills that started as coping mechanisms but turned into part of who you are.
For me, one of those things is the ability to start over. I’ve done it so many times now that the idea of “beginning again” doesn’t scare me anymore. Another is learning how to sit with uncertainty — not happily, but without letting it consume me.
I used to hate not knowing what was next. Now, I can go to bed without a plan for tomorrow and actually sleep through the night. That’s a small victory I couldn’t have imagined at 25.
Relationships
By thirty, you’ve probably said goodbye to more people than you thought you would. Friendships fade. Some end with a conversation, others with silence. And yet, the ones who stay — they feel like anchors in a world that’s always shifting.
I’ve learned that closeness isn’t measured by how often you talk, but by how easily you can pick up where you left off. Some of my favorite people are the ones I only see every couple of years, but when we meet, it feels like nothing’s changed.
Regrets, and the lack of them
I’m not going to say I have no regrets — that would be a lie. I regret staying in certain situations longer than I should have. I regret not speaking up for myself in moments when I should have. I regret wasting energy trying to be liked by people who didn’t matter.
But I also don’t carry those regrets like heavy bags anymore. They’re more like little stones in my pocket — reminders of where I’ve been and what I don’t want to repeat.
The truth about “having it all figured out”
If you’d asked me at 20 what my life would look like at 30, I would have given you a glossy, unrealistic picture. Perfect job, perfect apartment, perfect balance of everything.
Here’s the truth: I don’t have it all figured out. I still have days when I feel like I’m making it up as I go. But maybe that’s the point — life isn’t something you solve; it’s something you live.
Where I am now
Thirty doesn’t feel like the end of something; it feels like the start of a more intentional chapter. I don’t need to rush as much anymore. I’m okay with slow mornings, with saying no, with spending time on things that actually matter to me.
I’m still curious. Still learning. Still messing up sometimes. But now I know that’s all part of it.
Looking ahead
If the first thirty years were about figuring out who I am, I think the next thirty will be about actually living as that person. I want more depth, more meaning, more ordinary days that feel good in their simplicity.
And maybe in another thirty years, I’ll look back at this moment and smile at how much I still didn’t know — but that’s a thought for later.
If you’re also at a milestone age, maybe this is your reminder to pause for a second. Look back. Notice the details. You might be surprised at how much you’ve grown without even realizing it.
