I turned thirty last week. That feels odd to say, but the day came and went with a lot less drama than anticipated. I had a lot of assumptions about how I would feel reaching this milestone. I thought I would feel like time was slipping away, like the glory days were behind me and like I was already behind on my next life phase.
A lot of my twenties were spent with my friends. I traveled a lot (shoutout to remote work) and spent weeks with friends in Michigan, Colorado, California, Chicago and St. Louis. I visited friends in the UK, planned ski trips and beach trips and camping trips and never said no to a weekend getaway. If I was in one place for longer than three weeks, I started to feel the itch. My co-workers’ question every month at staff meetings was always, “Where are you headed next?”
I loved every second of being on the move. Hopping on a flight, living out of my suitcase, setting my slack status to “working from the mountains.” I loved trying new coffee shops and bookstores and hikes. And mostly, I loved getting to explore all those places with my friends. We have collected so many stories of our adventures that I will treasure forever. The pictures of our adventures are my favorite time capsules.
When I first brought my dog home, I settled in a little more. I started loving the feeling of walking through my front door more than walking out of it. And when my fiancé and I started dating, I settled into Nashville even more. Our friends now come to visit us here, and we still find ourselves traversing to our loved ones at least once a month, but I find myself craving time at home more often.
I have loved my time living alone in Nashville. The freedom to do two loads of laundry a day, organize the refrigerator however I want and blast music or a podcast while I clean. The freedom of control of the remote, the overhead light, and my closet space. I have created a cozy home that feels like mine, and I wouldn’t trade these years for anything.
It took me all the way until twenty-nine, but that seems to be the year I rooted down the most. It was the year we got engaged, the year my therapy finally clicked and my anxiety medication did her best work. The year I got promoted (twice) and gained confidence in what I have to offer my company. The year I started to give myself permission to breathe, to not be everything to everyone, and to show up for myself. The year I finally figured out how to make a decision without ruminating for weeks, consulting multiple friends, and even then feeling unsure. (That last one has been especially helpful during wedding planning.)
I am thrilled to report that on my thirtieth birthday I did in fact feel older but in a way that felt earned. This past year was one incredibly significant for my growth and self-confidence. I feel thirty, but in the best way. I am sure of my boundaries and of the people I’ve chosen to be in my life. I am content with the ways I spend my time, and I also have a clear vision of the ways I want to challenge myself. I am sure of the fact I’m allowed to grow and to change my mind. And I hope to remember the feeling of this “30” timestamp, because I am proud to have accomplished this moment of assuredness.
Olivia graduated from Calvin in May 2018 with a double major in business and writing. She now works as an editor in Nashville, Tennessee and is eating her way through the restaurants of her new town. She enjoys weekend trips with friends, petting other people’s dogs, and drinking coffee like a Gilmore Girl.
