On turning 30- a personal note

I didn't think turning 30 would be a THING. 20 was not a thing. It was a drunken evening at a thai restaurant in Manly, Australia with 3 friends and a lifetime of adventures ahead of me. 30 was a looooong way away and I figured I'd have it together by then. LIKE together together. Ducks in a row and all that. Actually I didn't really think about it, it seemed so far away.

But here I am. 30 and I gotta say, those 10 years went by reallllly fast. So fast I started panicking that it was finally time to get my act together and start wearing grown up panties.

Because the house is always dirty, and the laundry always piled high, and my career has taken many detours, my husband is still a bit of a mystery, I don't have all the answers for my daughter and that $100 bucks burning a hole in my pocket yesterday, didn't go as far as I thought it would. My ducks aren't in a row, they're scattered every which way and the more I try to round them up, the further apart they get.

But.

I don't know that ducks have anything to do with it, do they? Because if my 20s have taught me anything at all, it's that all the preconceived notions I've ever had about anything, are pretty much... wrong.

And no amount of grown up perfection will ever make me as happy as those moments that are chaotic and real and cherished. And no matter how hard I try those moments can't be planned, they can't be created, they just have to happen.

If my 20s taught me anything, they taught me the more I try to hold on, to force, to manipulate, the more I end up suffering. And only when I can actually let go and let a situation take its course do I actually find a little peace of mind.

Which doesn't mean I get to sit back and wait for life to happen. Oh no, I tried that too, it didn't work out. No this life thing is a real art of balance, of taking charge and moving forward, but also being still and taking notice of the life that is happening. The pursuit of a life worth living takes pursuing, but it isn't a given.

I know now, that bad things happen to good people, and good things happen to bad people and all I can do is try to show up as that good person and hope that karma works itself out. And some people are just mean. And rude. And maybe having a bad day. Or maybe they're assholes. I don't really know yet.

And when life brings me to my knees as it has done, I will have the courage, the strength to get up dust myself off, grumble and groan and then get on with it with a little more humility and a little less attitude.

My 20s taught me that life isn't fair. That things are taken away, even though you really deserved them. And miracles happen. And love prevails, and hearts break, and hearts mend. That laughing and crying are easily interchangeable. And just when you think you can't take another breath, you can or someone takes it for you.

My 20s taught me my friends are family, and my family are friends. My family is support, and support isn't always pretty and kind and wrapped in a bow. But sometimes it's laughing at you because you were wrong but still they supported you. And crying because it wasn't fair, so they cry for you because you can't shed anymore tears. And they cheer for you when at last you have a victory, no matter how small.

My 20s brought me a husband who is the man of my heart, not the one in my dreams. Because the one in my dreams doesn't really exist, and my man is goofy, and love and struggle and ridiculous arguments and uncontrollable fits of giggles, and knowing that forever is always.

My 20s brought me a little girl who broke me open in ways I didn't know could happen, and shows me things about the world I had entirely forgotten, and asks me questions I can't possibly answer but will try really hard to come up with something or maybe just ask your dad.

But I think mostly, My 20s taught me to keep trying. To never give up. To stop looking back and side to side and start believing, I mean really believing in myself. And then just go. Try. Do. Love. Rinse, repeat. And then step back and take a look at the brilliant, chaotic mess I am creating. Because it's pretty beautiful.

And sitting here on the other side I'm not sure I'd like to go back and do it again, but I'm pretty sure my 30s look good from here.