Thirty is like puberty on drugs
I always wondered to myself why they called it dirty thirty: is it because when you turn thirty you receive a licence that says “it’s okay to be dirty now”? Or is it the fact that now that you’re thirty your party can be dirty ¾ you know, grown and sexy. Or is it that turning thirty…being thirty is quite…dirty? Really it’s messy. Thirty is like puberty on drugs. If you haven’t already guessed it, the latter is the golden-ticket answer. By the time you read this post I will have already begun my ascension into my thirty-first year of life. I don’t know about you but when I turned twenty-five that was the year. You know THE YEAR. Where life began to make sense where I found ME. Where I devoted my time to myself, the world made sense, life made sense, I was on the way to being who I wanted and thought I should be. Then twenty-seven came around and kicked twenty-five-year-old Trudi’s ass.
The clarity, the life-changing experiences, the freedom the year of… THE REAL ME?!?! It seemed like, as the years went by, “the real me” continued to grow, more like evolve, to reintroduce herself and to reinvent herself. Then thirty came along and took the world by storm. Thirty came in with no introduction, took her coat off, threw it over the couch, had a seat in the living room, crossed her legs, cleaned her glasses off, put them on in the most annoying fashion ever and said, “okay, listen bitch, so let me tell you how this is gonna go.” And with that thirty took me by surprise. I experienced so much at thirty, which I will of course get into in future posts. The feelings that accompanied me this year were a mixture of fear, love, joy, relief, deep sadness, mental exhaustion, knee pain, surprise that joint hurts pain, happiness and more. But the most important feeling or act that my thirty-year-old self experienced was acceptance. Yes, that’s right. Acceptance, defined as 1- the act of taking or receiving something offered, 2- favourable reception, approval, favour and 3- the act of assenting or believing. Yeah, all of that.
Although it took a few months of ups and downs and downs and downs and ups again, I began to realize that I was still quite hung up on what others thought of me, or how I would be perceived by others. This includes friends, family, basically any and everybody. While experiencing life, thirty continued to teach me all that I needed to know to not only survive this thing but to come out on top. All that I had to do was accept it. Accept the ups, accept the downs and most of all accept myself. Accepting myself for the 30-year-old that stood daily in front of the mirror brushing her teeth or applying concealer to the eyebrows to shape them into life or washing her face from a night filled with tears. Accepting that this is me in this moment, thoughts, faults, hiccups and all. Thirty is messy as hell – they don’t refer to it as dirty thirty for nothing. But she will teach and mold your ass into something fierce. So hang on and enjoy the ride. She’s got some new glasses and she’s not taking her coat off this time. Here’s to the 30…somethings!