I think most people have birthdays they freak out about. Mine (as we have discussed) was 30. It was a painful, terrible bed-of-nails kind of turning-of-age and hasn’t exactly been a banner year (also previously discussed).
Expectations play such a huge role in this mindset of dreading age. The expectations we have about where we are geographically, physically, emotionally, relationally, professionally all stack up in either a reassuring or a damning pose as if the day of birth became some finish line to cross year after year and was complete with critical judges reviewing performance.
Some may get a thrill thinking of life as an Olympic sport that you work your ass off to win and all boils down to a few people rating your abilities on a scale of one to ten:
Education: 2.5, Career: 3, Family: -2 …
I hate that mindset. By traditional standards I wouldn’t even have made the plane to London, let alone the semi-finals or finals.
But one of the things I believe is sinking in about my life over this journey of words is that I am just where I need to be right now. I have such amazing support and friendships, things I am passionate about, opportunity on the horizon, good coffee in my cup and, for a 30 year old, a stack of stories that I can be proud of, stand behind and laugh looking back on.
I am not married, never have been, and hardly ever date. I am not prude, not difficult, not worthless. I am who I am supposed to be.
I do not have children, not even sure about wanting them. I am not uncaring. I am who I am supposed to be.
I do not own a house, have a car payment, or even pay my own cell phone bill. I am not irresponsible. I am free, I am blessed, I am loved.
My business is not a million dollar corporation, I do not have a salaried staff, I don’t always know where we are going. I am not a failure. I am not a joke. I am passionate, I am supportive, I am a dreamer.
So, dear friend, tell me the standards you have wrongly been placed to, and tell me the truth. Who are you? I am a 10.
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