Feeling alive

This year I turn 30. And I’ve been dreading it.

When I was younger, I had grand dreams about the person I should be when I turned 30. Probably wearing full outfits, working my way to the top of a company or running my own, making bank, married with kids. That was the dream sold to me and I welcomed it in.

I started therapy the month I turned 29, almost one year ago. My main goal was to help me gain some insight and clarity into my purpose, and how I could funnel that into a long-term career. I was burning out fast in my job, my confidence plummeting and my reality skewed. I wanted an unbiased, professional influence to help me navigate what was eating up so much of my time and energy.

I remember telling her “My goal is to one day not spend the entire appointment talking about my job.” I was frustrated that my work had become so all-consuming and created so much stress and discontentment. Side effect, apparently, of being a productivity addict who placed all of my worth in my career. I didn’t know how to even begin to have value outside of it.

If something happened at work, it meant I was a failure. It was a personal hit to my ego and my self confidence. I had zero boundaries between the person I was at work and the real me, because I always thought they were the same.

When work started to affect me so intensely that it was hindering my relationships and quality of life, I thought it was normal. I thought “this is what you have to do to be successful.” I thought I was crazy for thinking otherwise. It must be ME, not all of them. I struggled to see what was right in front of me, and I knew that my head was in a jumbled mess. Months passed with no relief, and I knew there had to be another way. But how? I couldn’t seem to find my way out of the madness and into the clear, no matter how consuming the thought was.

Then things got worse.

After my Vovo entered the spirit world, my life’s entire foundation was shattered. For the first time in my life, I took time for myself to heal and process. I regressed all the way down to survival mode, but it’s true that once you hit rock bottom, the only way is up. I began, slowly, relearning how to trust my instincts, choosing myself first, listening to my gut. Rebuilding my foundation allowed me to put my priorities and values in center stage. I realized the gravity of the blip of time we are all given on this earth, and when you truly understand the fleeting time we’re given, it changes you. It makes the big things you used to worry about feel incredibly small. It makes time your most valuable resource. It makes you become selfish with how you choose to spend it.

There’s this thing called post traumatic growth that my therapist told me about. It’s when someone experiences an extreme amount of personal growth after a traumatic event. It’s fucked up in a way, but makes perfect sense.

Not having a job and finding self worth anyway caused the biggest shift in the way I view my life. It was exactly what I had been looking for, spurred by the worst feeling imaginable. I finally gained clarity about what really matters in life. As painful and heartbreaking as the last few months have been, somehow I feel more aligned and connected to my truth than ever before.

And I feel really guilty about it. I feel confused that the worst case scenario had to happen for me to get here. Scared that I’ll have to learn all the lessons in life in such a hard way. Nervous that I’ll forget how clearly I see the world now and go back to my old ways. I feel guilty for appreciating all of the gifts that have come from losing such a giant part of me.

The only thing I know is that life goes on, even when it feels like it shouldn’t, and appreciating — even reveling — in the present moment is the only way to truly live. I honestly hope I never have to have such a gut punch post traumatic growth spurt again. But if that’s what life has in store, I know I’ll get through it. I’ve lived through the worst pain imaginable and I’m still here. Oddly enough, I have so much to show for it.

6 months ago I was in denial about turning 30 because I was ashamed that I wasn’t where I thought I would be in my life. I actually felt like a failure for not having my own business and a closet full of all the clothes and shoes I want. Sitting here now it makes me cringe a little bit — thinking that at one point that’s what mattered most to me.

What I’ve come to understand over the past few weeks of solitude, introspection and moving through grief is that I am so proud of where I am today. I’m not a CMO at a large company because going “above and beyond” at work has never given me anything worthwhile. And spending my life working is not where I gain personal joy and fulfillment. At nearly 30, I spend my time cuddling my dogs, FaceTiming my family, going to the beach for 6 hours with new friends, building new boards on Pinterest that inspire me, rediscovering ways to move that feel good, eating nourishing meals, exploring new places, trying new things, planning trips with loved ones. These things aren’t a given. They have to be chosen, prioritized. The best thing I’ve ever done for myself was follow my gut and take time for myself to put my own needs first, and I’m realizing that spending more time doing the simple things in life that bring me joy are more fulfilling than any job I’ve ever had.

So what would I tell my younger self now? My life is actually so much more than what I ever dreamed it could be when I was a kid. I never dreamed that I could find meaning in doing things I love with people I love. That that would be enough. I never thought I was inherently valuable. I thought love and acceptance and meaning had to be earned, because that’s the picture society paints for us. What I understand now is so much more powerful and fulfilling than any job could be. I matter more to me than a job, a title, or a salary.

And this peace of mind has come just in time for my 30th birthday. With just a couple months to spare, I’m writing this down so I don’t forget to be proud of how far I’ve come and to celebrate life. I’m really glad I didn’t know what was ahead of me, but in a weird way I am grateful that the sorrow I experienced led to a stronger, more confident, more purposeful version of myself than I ever knew existed.

I’m grateful for this gift Vovo gave me. I have no doubt this is exactly what she would want for me, and that if I was able to tell her all of this, she’d be so happy that I found myself. It’s all she ever wanted for me. I can’t say that I’m necessarily happy, but I know that will come. I’m clear. I’m present in life. I know what matters to me and how I want to spend whatever time I have left on this earth.

Accepting that death is a part of life is one of the hardest parts of our existence. But once you take the power away from your fears, they can’t consume or control you. I don’t know if I’ll ever be truly at peace with it, but I’m not avoiding reality anymore.

This year I turn 30. And I’m ready for it.

I refuse to make the 30 mark a sign of life fleeting or my youth fading. I refuse to feel shame around my age, hesitation to discover new parts of myself, or fear that I haven’t done “enough.” I am more than enough. I’m the most alive I’ve ever felt, and that’s worth celebrating.