Hi, there. You must be close to turning 30 or are already over the threshold if you’ve stumbled across this. Here, you’ll want this butt donut and there’s some refreshments on the table over there if you find yourself getting thirsty. Don’t worry, they’re all easy to digest and sugar-free.

Hm… you’re not looking too sure. It must be your first time. Nuh-uh-uh-UH! No-o-o you don’t! Don’t try and weasel your way out of using that donut. It’ll come in handy, trust me. Here! Take this and read up on what your 30s have to offer before I get started on more things I’ve realized.

What’s up, doc?

Forget things happening or coming in 3s. Let’s be real — that hasn’t happened in a hot New York minute and our bodies don’t bend that way anymore. It feels like mine has gone on strike and I’m having to go see a doctor more often than I used to. Before ya’ll get all high and mighty about getting out and exercising, I KNOW. I just choose to ignore it. I have zero interest.

ANYWAY. Ahem.

Seriously, as we get older, seeing an OBGYN and whoever it is that tickles the insides of glory holes becomes a must. Our teeth and skin start to take a dive, showing spots, weird dents, crooked wrinkles, bleeding at odd times, or just ashy AF no matter how much lotion we lather on. I’ve become increasingly aware and yet, am still in denial over the fact that I’ll have to talk to my local Smash-a-Boob about cancer screenings some time soon.

Totally disregarding the aforementioned ashinasty, any itch has me checking for rashes and bumps. Any slight ache of the throat has me hoping I haven’t caught the ‘VID. Any excess hair in my brush has me praying it’s just stress and not something more. Farts got me clenching my butt harder than usual, I’m seriously considering the benefits of therapeutic shoes, and my increasing disgust with bodily fluids has me washing clothes way more often than my nasty-ass teenage self could ever understand.

…ew. I can practically hear my mom telling me “I told you so! You didn’t wanna listen to me, didja?”

Sigh… and don’t get me started on how much money I’ve thrown at the dentist since my last blog post, but I’m just going to blame genetics on that one. Also, let’s tack on some recent news that I’ve received from my company: the mandatory health screening is due in two weeks. Doctors can see just about anything what’s not right with us through blood. Say a chant with me, charge them crystals, and light some herbs to prevent any voodoo on my read-out plz k thx.

Who am I? What am I?

And for some reason, having numerous health check-ups = grandma. Like, ¿que? ¿Cómo se dice BOOL-SHYEET? If you’ve noticed people treating you differently because you’ve added on a year, you’re not alone.

Not being “young” anymore has thrown me for a loop. 30 now has somehow brought back The Twilight Zone (the BW version, amiright?) and I feel myself being pulled two ways: one is to be the responsible adult and fit the stereotype of success, and the other is still trying to convince me I can walk in a short skirt and toothpick stilettoes without eating the pavement.

I’ve entered my 30s uncomfortably unprepared. The amount of things I just don’t know is staggering. There’s suddenly this pressure to read more, be woke, eat conspiracy theories for breakfast, and walk a political tightrope.

Barking Mad and Mentally Mental

These are my special guests: Anxiety, Depression, Insecurity and Guilt. Say hello, you freeloaders. If ya’ll in the audience know a good lawyer, I’d like a referral because these dudes owe me back rent.

I’m still baffled by the fact that life follows the movies. Y’know, the same opening scene where the main character is spread over a psychiatrist’s sofa, spilling all their worries? That one. I’ve entered that and it seems to be helping (!!). Yes, that’s right! I’ve taken a step in the right direction and am getting professional guidance on how to manage the unwelcome guests that have been squatting unhindered since forever. Their numbers have increased as I’ve gotten older.

But why is it with age, we become more self-aware? That means we’re noticing intrusive thoughts, poor decision-making, burnout, and whatever else this generation has going for it. Holding onto festering ideas and stress, morphing it into something normal, is not healthy.

Let me ask you, would you keep moldy fruit? You wouldn’t. You’d throw it out, beat back the mold stain, smack the flies with a newspaper (are those even a thing anymore?) and start fresh, right? I know that and you know that, and yet, some of us keep repeating the habit without a second thought.

Eventually, with the therapist’s help, I’ll be able to reform my habits and start saving money. If you’re struggling too, I gently suggest seeking third-party help, as they’re removed from your situation, triggers, and stresses, and can provide an objective eye.

Not understanding the young people

Unfortunately, those triggers can take any form and mine seem to be everywhere. One of them is social media with its intense saturation of young women flaunting their goods for easy likes. Seriously, we’re missing out on a profitable business. We’d have way more millionaires in the world if those likes were currency! On the downside, it really puts Insecurity at risk of setting Anxiety off.

The trends and habits of today’s youth are starting to baffle me. What is so appealing about smooth-skinned hot thangs swishing their hips to some random EDM? They all make me feel fat, ugly, and old. I’ve seen 2D characters with more dimension than them!

Does it sound like I’m complaining? Probably. More and more though, there’s a disconnect. I’m finding myself having generational shock. Y’know, like culture shock, but… between me and them.

Does Hobby Lobby have hobbies for sale?

And as we get older, many of us will fall into two camps: being super unmotivated or being intensely genki (Japanese for energetic, healthy). The genki folks undergo a transformation as they take on new challenges, start eating healthier, and overall becoming the superstars we all secretly envy.

Our views of success get distorted, and with that, comes apathy; apathy towards everything that once defined us. Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m not telling you to hold onto ungratifying pastimes. If you’ve stopped for valid reasons or absolutely need to change for your health, that’s fine. What I’m trying to say is that it’s sad when we stop doing what we love; when we sever that important emotional connection.

We end up becoming unmotivated. And what do we say to that?!

By the way, if having a mountain of unfinished projects stacked up around the house applies to you, raise your hand. Mine’ve been there for months. You might as well call me an odds and ends collector or Miss Money Throw-away ’cause that’s just about what it amounts to. If I take a moment to think about it, the oldest unfinished item I have is from like… around… 2011? TEN YEARS YOU GUYS! Ten years that project has been hopping from the storage bin to boxes to my floor and back to the storage bin.

I’m loathe to admit that I might have picked up the negligence from my dad. Seriously, why can’t those projects do themselves?!

There’s an upside, though. Slowly, I’m reaching back into my youth and picking up old hobbies. Do ya’ll remember boondoggles? Does anyone play with Tamagochis anymore? I would totally love to have my old Lite Brite back, dressed up in one of those gawdy princess costumes with the clickity-clack plastic pumps.

Hee-hee-huu-huu!

Truly though, this is where the panic sets in. Panic that you’re going to kick the bucket before you can get everything set and squared away. Panic about seeing people you haven’t reached out to in years. Panic over not being as organized and upstanding as you’d like. Granted, some people are more well-rounded and stable than you and I and they’ve already got a hefty 401k going, their eyes are on a house at the age of 27, and have several rescues they’ve fostered out.

It’s an all hands on deck kind of feeling. The deadlines you thought you were ahead of are either moved forward or they shank you when you least expect it. Perhaps you have a kid and you’ve realized you’re in need of self-help books for the eventual mood swings and goth period they’re bound to have.

Best have a lot of skip and reverse cards handy, or at the very least, some good pals you can depend on. There were plenty of times I wish I had them.

Friends

Speaking of friends, we either keep them always and forever or we gain the seasoned ones later in life. That seems to be my case, anyway.

Allow me some sentimentality. Friends are beautiful. They are a kaleidoscope of personalities, likes, and interests that are all, funnily enough, suited to us in some way. Just look at the number of quotes and sayings on friendship! I bet you could wallpaper your house with them all.

As we age, we notice more readily who’s valuable and safe for us to know and have around and… well… who’s not. Our view of people regresses back a couple decades, shedding the multiple lenses we use, and becomes much more straightforward. We literally have lost the patience to get to know someone.

Those friends come in handy too because, let’s be real, we’re all still scared of the dark.