30 Remembered…Time to Move On

31 Blogs Before I Turn 31 started off as a desperate cry to release some angst, stress, anxiety and sadness hovering around my soul. Or, to put it in a metaphysical way, writing blogs was supposed to cleanse my aura.

As I look towards 31 I realize that I am ready for 30 to be over. It has been a tough year and part of that desire to usher in 31 with a clean heart and some solid optimism is because I don’t want to repeat the last 12 months.

Here is some insight into why:

The month before I turned 30 I emotionally disintegrated. I cried. A lot. I wasn’t ready to turn 30 because, in my mind, somewhere, someone was judging me for not having done enough, accomplished enough, not having made the decisions I was supposed to make to be where I should be as I stepped into the next meaningful phase of life.

Actually, I don’t think anyone was judging me and, if they were, they didn’t tell me so it doesn’t really count. I was judging myself against a strange picture of what it meant to be a 30-year-old. I didn’t measure up.

As my 30th birthday hit, I was just settling into a room in my parents basement. The previous year had been a bit of a wreck as I was trying to juggle a return to university, running the business I had co-founded, and the few hours of work I managed to get in through the university and an early morning job at a gym. I had more than one month where bills couldn’t be paid, sobbing phone calls had to be made and my family came to my rescue. My university program ended up being cancelled during that time and I made the decision to try a transfer into another program back home.

Despite my parent’s openness in letting me stay, for which I am grateful, there is something that rubs wrong when you are 30 and moving back home because you don’t have other options.

To top it off, my heart and ego had been badly bruised a few months prior and I was just coming to terms with the events and the real effect they had on me.

Happy Birthday to me.

Other than the joyous birth of my nephew, the first three months are a blur.  I felt on edge, like I was behind in figuring out how to live life.  I wanted to give my time to my business, but had so many things pulling me other directions. I needed to make a paycheck but found myself in a ridiculous and unproductive  corporate work environment. School was meandering along, but I was quickly over the classes, the teachers, the schedule, the requirements…

Partially, these are the things that induced the move to Oregon. Five months after my candles blew out, I was packed up and driving westward to settle into new possibilities. I was taking another break from school, following a rainbow and hoping for a pot of gold.

The first blog I wrote in this series was on the current conditions in Oregon. You can read that here. I won’t go into it again. Though, I will add that night in February when we arrived in Oregon, after driving almost 21 hours straight through, I wanted to turn back and go home. If it wouldn’t have been for my best friend here with me for a few days, I would have. I would have just gotten right back in the car and made the drive over the desert and mountains to return to Colorado.

Add into the mix a major wildfire, some desperate times for my business and the continual rain and clouds of Oregon, and I am probably not the only one that would want to move on.

If I had to pick a word to describe these last twelve months I would choose Maelstrom: a restless, disordered, or tumultuous state of affairs.

Yes, I thesaurused that. Yes, to thesaurus is a verb.

The restlessness is my own fault. It is a product of allowing myself to feel discontent with my situation(s) or the terms by which I have to live my life.  I have used restlessness to my advantage before – hence the extra pages in my passport, the advocacy, the funneling of time and energy into causes I believe in. This last year, however, it became the thorn in my side. That which I couldn’t get away from or around that pricked and pricked until it began affecting my mood and behavior.

Well, I am determined to be thorn-free for 31. These blogs are the start of the removal and healing.

To those of you reading – Thank you. The process of writing is greatly therapeutic, but the interest  and responses of friends and strangers is more so.

10 blogs down. 21 to go.

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4 thoughts on “30 Remembered…Time to Move On

  1. I am ready for 30 to be over too…but 31 D. Gosh..I feel like 31 should involve hiking through the Himalayas swaddled in prayer flags, looking for the next tea house…the chances of that actually happening this coming year are slim to none…but I really really like the visual:) loves.

  2. It’s time to move on, it’s time to get going. What lies ahead, I have no way of knowing. But under my feet, baby, the grass is growing. It’s time to move on, time to get going.
    Hopefully, we swaddle as we go. . . xx

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