On turning Thirty, comparison and choosing a better way

It seems so cliché to freak out about turning thirty. But freak out I did.

A few months ahead of my new-decade deadline, I found myself tearfully confessing to a friend 'if this is going to be my life at thirty, then I don't want it! I just don't want it'

Wielding the wisdom to withhold any platitudes for the time being, she simply nodded patiently whilst patting my back.

In truth, I hardly knew what I was saying, except that after a tricky couple of years I was desperate for a better one and I prayed and hoped for it with all the fervency and force of a thirteen-year-old Jenna Rink in a cramped basement closet.

After all, my thirties were supposed to be the best years of my life, right? And turning thirty was (I believed) the moment I could finally wave goodbye to the insecurity, uncertainty and emotional immaturity of my youth and step forward into an exciting future with a (mysteriously) newfound clarity and confidence.

Yet, with just 3 months to go, things weren't shaping up as planned and I was panicking. Far from feeling 'flirty and thriving', I was burnt-out, stressed-out, struggling and acutely aware that I still didn't know what I was doing with my life nor what I wanted to do.

'If I'd just made some slightly different decisions,' I mused, 'how much better might life look right now?'

It's not hard to identify the trigger point for my third-life crisis. A sneaky course of comparison had me looking around at everyone my age to see where I was on the sliding scale of success and as I did so, I felt the pain that came from seeing my peers progress without me: a house acquisition here, three engagements, a country move and a promotion there, not forgetting a healthy smattering of pregnancies on the side. When set against these things, my own life was looking disappointingly stagnant, and I was stumped.

Asking my parents to recall their 30-year-old selves over my birthday dinner did little to soothe my nagging anxieties - married for six years with a mortgage and a toddler in tow, their lives were a complete contrast to my own and as I looked back to more recent history, my rose-tinted glasses “reliably” informed me that life was indeed sweeter several years ago. Although I had been blissfully unaware of it at the time, I had clearly peaked at the tender age of just 25; it had all been downhill from there.

***

Less than three weeks the other side of the main event, I am aware of how ludicrous this all sounds.

Life didn't stop and opportunity and possibility didn't disappear overnight. I celebrated in style, rallying 11 of my nearest and dearest (minus a few) to brace the biting cold of bonnie Scotland for several days and it was a whirlwind weekend to remember. I couldn't have felt happier or more loved and at the time of writing, my experience of thirty has been both positive and promising.

As such, I could have chosen to hide the depths of my former despair and pretend like it didn't happen, like I breezed through this birthday with all the confidence, self-love and freedom of a certain new (and seriously catchy) Miley Cyrus song, but instead, I choose to be honest about it because I have a sneaking suspicion I'm not alone.

***

Whilst there is something about a new decade that naturally causes us to ask big questions about who we are, what we have achieved and where we're headed, it turns out that these questions and the quest for certain standards of success are not just a thirties problem, but one that can plague us at any age.

As I’ve spoken to friends both close and far in years, they have all echoed the same thing; whatever your life stage, the temptation is always to long for the next one.

When you've got a spouse, the desire is for a house. When you've got a house, it's for a bigger house. When you have a kid, it's (often) for more kids or older kids (or occasionally no kids when sleep deprivation leads you to lament the loss of your youth and your Saturday morning lie-in).

If it's not such traditional goals that get you, it's the appetite for adventure, the desire to be your own boss, to earn more money than you currently do, to travel the world or to bulldoze your way through an ever-growing bucket list - anything to ensure you’re living your best life now.

For others, the longing is to leave a legacy and make a difference or simply for a season where you're just that bit more settled, stable and secure.

In summary, the goalposts might be different, but it would appear that the quest for 'more' is never satisfied and whilst this might not be the kind of pep-talk you came here for today, reminding myself of this has gone some way to relieve the arbitrary pressure assigned to my new age.

The other reminder that has reframed my age-related angst is the basic truth that as a Christian, I follow a Saviour who scores low on the sought-after status symbols. Jesus was normal-looking, nomadic, single and poor and whilst those factors don't determine my own destiny to a T, in handing my life over to Him I know I opened myself up to the probability that life would not follow the path I imagined, nor that it would make much sense when weighed against the values and expectations of the world around me.

Jesus' words to His friend Peter (who is also asking about the future of his friends) are straight to the heart and a sobering sucker punch to my spirit

'If I want him to remain alive until I return, what is that to you? You must follow me'

[John 21:22]

In them, I hear 'Sure, that other person has travelled the world / bought a house / had a baby / launched their own business / [fill in the blank here]. But what is that to you Al?'

Honestly? In certain situations and seasons of struggle, these things are a great deal to me, especially when they pertain to things I also desire. But, when wisdom and Godly perspective prevail, I realise they are not so much to me at all, nor do I want them to be.

And knowing Jesus as I do, I hear a different heart behind his question, one which comes in the tenderest of tones and sounds more like 'Who am I to you Al?' 'Am I more than these things?' 'Am I enough for you?'

Though I'm prone to forget it, the answer has to be (and is undeniably) 'yes'.

Yes, yes He is.

That won’t make sense to everyone, but when I think upon His goodness, His beauty and His majesty and I call to mind His kindness, faithfulness and never-failing love, it’s a no-brainer. I wouldn’t trade Him for the world or its markers of what it looks like ‘to make it’.

All to say, my days might currently defy some of the millennial milestones assigned to my age, but I am reminded afresh that my life with the Lord is both precious and unique and that I have a calling and a purpose on this earth that doesn't look like anyone else's and that can't be carried out by anyone but me.

As such, I have a choice to make; I can despise my life for looking different than expected, or I can live it and live it well.

What's more, the older I get, the more aware I become that I don't know the number of my days or how many more years the Lord will gift me this side of eternity, nothing is guaranteed. With this in mind, I don't want to waste any more time wishing my life looked better than it does or more like somebody else's.

I must follow Him.

***

So, I'm thirty and my life cannot be adequately described as ‘flirty’ or ‘thriving’ in the stereotypical sense, but I'm ok with that. The goalposts have changed.

Instead of thirty being the pinnacle, it has become a point for me to pause and reflect on what truly matters and through this process, I realise I want to choose a better way. One that looks more like:

Trente, Content et Reconnaissante*

Loosely translated as

Thirty, Content and Thankful

*Sure, it's a bit of a mouthful and there's the small problem that it doesn’t make sense if you can't speak French, BUT it seems to better encapsulate the posture I want to maintain at this mid-point. Plus, I challenge you to find a decent word that rhymes with Thirty!

Thirty, Content and Thankful

Lord let it be so,

Grateful for you and rooting for you,