I turned 30 last June.
Ever since that day, I’ve been writing less and less on this blog. Half of the reason why is because I started a grown-up writing gig that takes up a lot of my time and mental energy. The other half of the reason why is what this blog post is about.
After turning 30, I became a mess-bag of anxiety. So much so, that all I could think about was my anxiety, and I didn’t want to turn this blog into dozens of posts of me going, “I’m dying! WE’RE ALL DYING!!!” I did write a couple of posts regarding my anxiety and hypochondria, which you can read here and here– if you feel like reading about an unhinged 30-year-old (who doesn’t?)
From most accounts, women LOVE their life after 30. They say that they understand themselves better and no longer make the dumb career/relationship/financial choices that they did in their twenties. These women say they feel more comfortable in their own skin and would not go back to their twenties for ANYTHING, even if it meant getting (more…)
Today I turn thirty.
I never imagined this day would come (I said this exact sentence while watching the series finale of The X-files).
We would stay dirty, stinky kids forever, right?
Thirty just seemed so unthinkable, so impossible. Didn’t life just stop at 27, like it did for Jimi, Jim and Janis?
I didn’t plan for a life after thirty. Thirty meant homes and marriage and babies and none of those things ever resonated with me. I’m an only child of divorced parents who always wanted to work in Hollywood, so needless to say, a life of solitary seemed like the direction I was headed in. And for awhile, I was very much alone. For the first half of my twenties, I was glued to my career, and was existentially lost and angry. My career as a personal assistant was not the right fit for me, but I was determined to make it work- at the costs of friendships and my mental health. I was a mess, getting drunk alone at night in order to deal with my confusion, blowing off (more…)
(girl, lemme get you some eye makeup remover)
Whoa, girl, whoa.
Hold onto your still firm butt (bitch!)- it’s about to get all kinds of shitty in here.
You’re excited right now. Excited to begin your adult life in Hollywood, the place you dreamed of going to as a child, but boy oh boy, are you going to feel like the essence of canine fecal matter on the bottom of someone’s shoe very soon.
Your twenties are going to feel like those old wooden roller coaster rides that make you both mentally and psychically ill.
Am I going to throw up? Did someone just throw up on me? Did I just break a rib from being tossed into the side of this rickety coaster car? Will my fate play out like Fabio with a bird smashing into my face? Am I about to be catapulted hundreds of feet into the air and impaled on the little kids’ swirly cup ride?
Life is full of so many questions right now.
You’re going to spend the first half of your twenties drinking alone in your tiny-ass (more…)