I turned 30 this year. It was that unspoken age for me where I thought I'd feel as though I had made it. Looking back though, that real age was 24 when my biggest concerns were whether I'd nailed the front page that week and who was coming out for drinks on Friday.
Life at 30, while more wonderfully fulfilling, was also more complex. I had a beautiful, intelligent child and another on the way. I was married to the man of my dreams, the guy who had been my biggest support and encouragement throughout a decade. I had spent a good few years enjoying career successes and had gone further than I had ever thought I would, and in some respects less (I wasn't Judy Bailey, not even close), but that was OK. We were still traveling. And in partnership with the bank, hubby and I owned the Auckland roof over our heads and it wasn't even leaking.
I realise I have trumpeted each milestone like I've found the holy grail to life success. Hashtag winning. I haven't been so forthcoming about how in the depths of sleep deprivation, spousal arguments have left my blood boiling and my husband cold. Or the emotional pressure where I doubted at that moment, whether my child liked me.
No one besides close confidants would have known the days of dread, the crying, the need for escapism from the day job that consumed my every thought, or so it seemed. I only showed the praise-worthy. Friends only saw the published stories, the journalism awards, the tidy house, the well-behaved children. How much more refreshing would it be if I started showing the washing piles, the breakfast dishes on the bench at 5pm, the deadlines looming, the unwanted articles, the frantic wife, the exhausted husband.
Comparison is the robber of joy. I don't want my children growing up in a world where the striving to impress and fit in that is expected at school, continues well into adulthood. Where it's not OK to not be OK. I used to think that to relax meant to allow myself to live in chaos. But I've learned there is a balance between aiming for the best and being prepared to deal with the worst. There will always be someone hustling harder, partying more, spending more money, who is naturally smarter, sexier, happier than you. And that is OK. You are not them, nor are you meant to try to be.
Perhaps no one says it more succinctly than Dr Seuss, "today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You."
Life at 30, while more wonderfully fulfilling, was also more complex. I had a beautiful, intelligent child and another on the way. I was married to the man of my dreams, the guy who had been my biggest support and encouragement throughout a decade. I had spent a good few years enjoying career successes and had gone further than I had ever thought I would, and in some respects less (I wasn't Judy Bailey, not even close), but that was OK. We were still traveling. And in partnership with the bank, hubby and I owned the Auckland roof over our heads and it wasn't even leaking.
I realise I have trumpeted each milestone like I've found the holy grail to life success. Hashtag winning. I haven't been so forthcoming about how in the depths of sleep deprivation, spousal arguments have left my blood boiling and my husband cold. Or the emotional pressure where I doubted at that moment, whether my child liked me.
No one besides close confidants would have known the days of dread, the crying, the need for escapism from the day job that consumed my every thought, or so it seemed. I only showed the praise-worthy. Friends only saw the published stories, the journalism awards, the tidy house, the well-behaved children. How much more refreshing would it be if I started showing the washing piles, the breakfast dishes on the bench at 5pm, the deadlines looming, the unwanted articles, the frantic wife, the exhausted husband.
Comparison is the robber of joy. I don't want my children growing up in a world where the striving to impress and fit in that is expected at school, continues well into adulthood. Where it's not OK to not be OK. I used to think that to relax meant to allow myself to live in chaos. But I've learned there is a balance between aiming for the best and being prepared to deal with the worst. There will always be someone hustling harder, partying more, spending more money, who is naturally smarter, sexier, happier than you. And that is OK. You are not them, nor are you meant to try to be.
Perhaps no one says it more succinctly than Dr Seuss, "today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You."
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