Waiting To Exhale

*Takes a deep breath*

So yeah, I’m 30. It happened yesterday, and there was nothing I can do to prevent it. I’m officially at that age where my back goes out more than I do. My first grey hair has sat eagerly on the left side of my head, for about a year now, anxiously awaiting this day. “30,” said the grey hair, “when she turns 30, I will have friends, I will start to multiply.”

I’ve never put any sort of highlights in my hair, nor have I used hair dye, so when I reach for that box of Clairol in Duane Reade, everyone will know my secret: I am turning grey. It comes gift-wrapped with “30.”

*Takes a deep breath*

I’m sitting at my computer feeling very Carrie Bradshaw: I’m a Never-Married who still is unsure of what she wants to be when she grows up. I dabbled in journalism (if five years as a professional is dabbling), which is my passion, but “retired” when I decided I wanted a life outside of a career. So here I sit, mulling over my life, where I have been and where I am going.

30 *sigh*

I recently read an online “Survivor’s Guide To Turning 30.” Written by a women who just turned 30 herself, she laments about things all too familiar for me: familial pressure to get married (even if you are pathetically single), pressure to have children (even if you don’t want any), and the self-imposed pressure to stay young (even though you can’t). The later really bugs me. I feel like I should be a new superhero: The Time Fighter! Leaping tall buildings in a single bound! Dodging little SOBs who call me “Ma’am!” Wage a war to extend my lease in the 20-something fountain of youth! But alas, that is simply a fantasy….

The author of the aforementioned “Survival Guide….” suggests many activities an incumbant 30-year old should do before the big day, plus she suggests survival tips for the actual day itself ("don't let mom bring up marriage unless you are already married! You are not Bridget Jones!"). Another game-day activity is to make a list of all of the amazing things you have done….and gloat!

Rather than bore you all with a written list of amazing things that I have done, allow me to just say that after making a mental list, my 20s were indeed, amazing. They were a roller coaster of ups and downs, but admittedly I wouldn’t even trade in the downs for some extra ups. Those moments –the good, the bad and the ugly—made me who I am today. They cheered me up, helped me stand tall, matured me, molded me, kicked my ass, tore me down and taught me how to pull myself back up, and stay up. For now.

I’ve accomplished some [not all but a fair amount of] goals that I set, met some amazing people (even the ones I butt-heads with factor in, because I’ve learned a thing or two from them), seen a decent amount of sights and cities, laughed a lot, cried a lot, basically ran the gamut of emotions and instabilities. So why is turning 30 such a big deal to me?

I’m beginning to realize that I’m mulling over the question “where am I gong?” because my real paranoia about turning 30 lies within my own great expectations. Will my upcoming 30s live up to my roaring 20s?

I'm only in my second day of my 30s, so I guess I will have to wait and see.