In roughly six days, I turn 30. One empathetic friend seems to be anxiously anticipating this event with the occasional “How are you feeling? I know how I felt when….”.
Truth be told, a fair amount of obsessing consideration has been devoted to this milestone. I’ve obsessed over considered the implied physical/emotional/societal/occupational ramifications of entering my thirtieth year of life. So when he asked this question again today, here’s what I’ve come up with:
My last ten years have been chaotic. I’ve known since the age of 22, I’d need open heart surgery. The speculation was this would come closer to 40, than 30. But it didn’t. I had adolescent ambitions of marriage, a graduate-level education, children, and at least a 200,000/year salary. Heh.
Did I ever think my life would be as it stands currently? No. Do I wish I would have done/seen/accomplished more? Absolutely. Do I have regrets? I’d be lying to say there are none. Do I measure the quality of my life by any of this? Thankfully, no.
When considering my options, I really only have two – to have a good life, or to have none.
I choose the first.
Oh, and I’m glad life isn’t what I thought it would be. It’s so much better than I could have imagined.
I vote for Insult Free Friday next week.