Thinking About What I Thought Almost 30 Would Feel Like, This Ain't It
You couldn't pay me to go back, but damn
“Thirty, Flirty and Thriving” has been etched into my brain since I was 8 going on 16.
I imagined a switch.
A switch that would flip as 30 approached.
So as they say, with the flip of a switch, all of my bad habits, hater ex-boyfriends and embarrassment loops…
POOF
Gone.
I just knew when I woke up 30, I would have more than just what I want and need.
I turn 30 in 5 months and 3 days.
That switch doesn’t exist. If it does, I sure as hell haven’t found it.
I thought I’d have my dream job. Now, I don’t dream of labor.
I thought I’d be married with kids. Happy, in love.
I thought I’d feel ready to repair my relationship with my father.
I thought my brothers and I would get our shit together.
Have Wednesday night game nights.
Kids running around.
Honestly, I’m at a loss as to when and why I dreamed up this trauma-proof, rulebook for adulthood.
Was it film? TV? Had to be the books.
I spent most my weekends cuddled up with my library books that I had no intention of returning. All of the imaginary promises my books made about life turned into promises I made myself— except they did not account any space for life to life and I had no concept of time.
These imaginary promises became great motivation but have set an unrealistic timeline for my young mind to wrap my head around.
Reality hit. As it does.
My path has strayed from my young dreams at every corner. I graduated high school a year early—impressive, sure—but it came from far too many bullies not minding their business, crippling anxiety, and a laughable amount of teenage angst. When I was accepted into my dream school (at the time) I proudly paid my housing deposit before learning loans weren’t coming.
My mother couldn’t get a loan.
I couldn’t get a loan.
Just like that, my dreams of a fashion design degree—and a neat path toward design director or brand owner, disappeared.
Fast forward, many big city moves and a career pivot, I’m calling a new city home while embarking on a new part of my career. Making strides, yes but regardless, I am nearly 30 doing my damnedest to get my foot in the door of the corporate world.
Not at all what I expected but I’m grateful.
I’m almost thirty and nearly whole. And I’m prepared for what’s to come in a way that I never would have had my life gone according to the plan my eight-year-old self made for me.
I want to make it known that I don’t believe that I have failed at adulthood.
If mini-me was the judge, I know even she would be impressed. I’ve embraced every shift that’s blown over. I let life’s surprise’s shape me.
So much of what she dreamed of has come to me. Just not in a straight line.
She saw things linearly.
I’ve learned the idea of a linear life path is a fallacy. And thank god for that.
What I see now, at nearly 30, as real adult wins:
I can take care of myself
I know where I’m headed—and I see it clearly
Comparison doesn’t steal my joy
I can look in the mirror and feel good about my reflection
I follow my gut, most of the time
I’m smarter than most men
I don’t sweat the small shit
Because let’s keep it a buck, being an adult is ghetto.
The world is literally on fire. Kids don’t know how to read. Most adults don’t read. Donald Trump is aging like mold in real time. Babies are having babies because they don’t have a choice. Small-town DJs are still playing Ignition in the club.
We’re living in one of Octavia Butler’s fever dreams. Help us.
What I’ve learned about being an adult is learning how to keep moving anyway.
We don’t have much of a choice.
My single, Black mother taught me that. What perseverance looked like. Felt like. How to do the best with what you got.
Everything I needed to know about being an adult was right in front of me.
So I’ll ask you this—
How do you measure your success so far?
What does winning adulthood look like in your current reality?
And how does that differ from your adolescent expectations?
Would you be proud of you?
You’re so insightful and wise. Young K-Roc is in awe of you, I’m sure💗