Tag Archives: coming of age

30

a swig for ol' 30

a swig for ol’ thirty

today i leave behind three decades of lessons well learned. the last of which brought forth the most growth and self-discovery. i’m grateful for my twenties, but i’m even more grateful they’re over. i spent much of those years trying so hard to be cool that i didn’t realize i already was this entire time. do you know how much time i wasted making sure i wore the hippest outfits to the hippest bars on the hippest nights, watching the hippest movies and listening to the hippest bands, drinking the darkest beers and wines to prove my refined palate, finding the most obscure things to like just for the sake of being “interesting?” too much time, if you ask me. screw that nonsense!

those things don’t matter. they won’t bring meaningful people into my life. they won’t inspire me to be a better person. they won’t give me confidence or a sense of self-worth. they won’t allow me to get to know myself. they won’t encourage me to be authentic and genuine. they won’t teach me compassion, forgiveness, or acceptance. they won’t help me practice gratitude, contentment, or sacrifice.  they won’t reveal my strengths and weaknesses, or how to deal when life throws me curve balls. they won’t bless me or enrich my spirit. they won’t motivate positivity. they won’t let me relax.

but somewhere amongst those years i managed to wise up, drop the nonsense, and channel my energy into those things that do matter. at 30 i am more fulfilled than ever.

announcement: i am a woman


things i thought were dumb 15 years ago:

  1. make-up
  2. crying
  3. kittens
  4. skirts/dresses
  5. sexy underwear
  6. boys
  7. scented lotions
  8.  jewlery
  9. home-making
  10. showering

that list today:

  1. make-up
  2. crying
  3. kittens
  4. skirts/dresses
  5. sexy underwear
  6. boys
  7. scented lotions
  8. jewelry
  9. home-making
  10. showering

as the only girl in the family, growing up with brothers wasn’t a tough thing to do if you thought you were a boy yourself. i remember having to look down at my clothes to verify my gender before walking into the appropriate bathroom (not that it mattered, anyway, since my tiny tomboyish frame was always dressed in boys clothes). but it was that confusing for me. at home, my brothers and i would wrestle, play in the mud, and collect comic books. at school, i would get into fights with boys, have burping contests, and talk about punching things because i thought i was a badass.

over time, hormones sanded my rough edges and a desire to be more socially accepted as a female made me refine my actions and demeanor. but emotions became more overwhelming than i had ever experienced at the time (probably ever). at 15, i remember being up at 5am, crying at an episode of saved by the bell on tbs. zack was perfect for kelly! why did she have to choose jeff over him?!

it was dumb then, and i still think it’s dumb now — crying, that is. but only because my emotions annoyingly bring me to tears way more than it did 15 years ago. crying is perfectly okay (and encouraged) when you have good reason to do it. and, let’s face it, boys are never not going to be dumb. so crying over some dumb thing a dumb boy did can be dumbfounding, but reasonable. just learn from it and don’t let that dumb boy do anything dumb to you again.

oh, and my love for home-making? well, that’s an entirely new thing that i just discovered. it’s funny how traditional gender roles developed organically in my last relationship. neither of us were expecting anything of the sort, but being a nurturer by nature(r), i found myself filling my time with making a clean/cute home, cooking dinners, cross-stitching and offering “my other” a beer after a long day’s work. he, in turn — because he was making that sweet cartoon money while i was on hiatus — took me out and picked up the bill without hesitation. don’t get me wrong; i wouldn’t quit my day job now that i have one (and i’m not looking to be taken care of), but i really enjoyed it at the time, and i could see myself being really happy doing that if i ever get tired of the workforce.

these days, i’ve noticed my interests changing. i just got into scented lotions. girls nights with whiskey (one manly exception), face masks and manicures appeal to me. i tell myself that i enjoy them like i enjoy a terrible nicholas cage movie: they’re so silly, how could you not? but underneath my semi-satirical view on hyper-femme activities is a real revelry of womanhood, and i’m finally embracing it. i do my nails. i get waxed. i enjoy sharing the intimate details of my relationships with my girlfriends. it’s liberating to finally come clean after all these years. i am a woman.