The weather of my 30s

When I was twenty-something years old, I was never really curious about the life of being thirty-three. Or forty-two. Or fifty. Old folks like telling young people that the youth doesn’t last forever so they should enjoy the freedom and the beauty of the youth. So I automatically assumed in a binary way that life beyond 30 would be ugly, deprived of freedom. That’s why it was a big surprise when every thirty-something-year-old friend/colleague/family member celebrated my 30th birthday by saying “Welcome! The real fun begins now.” I felt like I finally joined the real adults club.

After living almost 3 years of my 30s, I can assure you that the hype is real. When you are a teenager, you are so conscious of your age that age becomes a big part of your identity. When you are in your twenties, you attach your insecurity to your age, thinking you will be more confident once you have one more year of experience at this job. You also attach your confidence to your age, so at every birthday you mourn like your young self just died.

Living in your 30s is like experiencing the most ideal weather. Not the kind of Sunday weather that seeks attention and screams “IT’S A FABULOUS DAY” and guilts everyone to get out of the house. It’s the kind of weather that exists just like the air that you forget the concept of weather exists; with just the right temperature, the right amount of sunshine, enough breeze, and enough dryness. It solely stands in your background helping you focus on yourself and your surrounding. I am tired but motivated enough. I am anxious but not insecure. I am experienced but I think I am not too late to start over.

With the advance of botox and diversified lifestyle, age is more and more losing its face value. But I hope the beauty of each age group stays the same, kept semi-secret. If you think this way, growing old is exciting; it’s a privilege.