Eddie Murphy was once quoted as saying that he spent his thirties “fixing everything [he] broke in his twenties.” I love that because my experience wasn’t or isn’t so different. Don’t get me wrong. I fixed things so that I could fuck other stuff up. But maybe that’s the way all of this works. We endlessly find new messes to get into once we’ve cleared one up. Or maybe that’s just me [and Eddie].
I spent the beginning of my thirties trying to figure out what the fuck happened to my twenties. Literally. It felt like I was in a dream sequence. I waltzed into my twenties feeling grandiose because I had graduated college and lived abroad and then blammo, I woke up and I was thirty. Thirty didn’t feel sad for me. It didn’t feel happy either. It felt like a very ordinary milestone. I was single. I was employed. I had some old friends and some new friends. I was still living in my same studio apartment. Entirely run-of-the-mill.
I did have some major “stuff” to deal with and deal I did. I had to work through why I stayed so long in a relationship that didn’t serve me. A relationship that was fraught with lies and a ton of other messy bits. I had to figure out who I was separate from that relationship. I had to look at the connections I still had left after I crawled out of my grief hole to see what I wanted to keep and what I wanted to discard. I had to ask myself what I wanted next. Did I want to stay at the same job? Did I want to live in the same area? I had actually spent so much time consumed with my life with this individual that I was feeling and experiencing things anew, including my living space.
I went about fixing all the things so I could set myself on the path towards disaster again. I know…cringe. Don’t be sad though. I needed it. I did. I know I needed it. I asked the universe for another lesson and it delivered me a biggie on a silver platter. I had grown arrogant. I felt like I had my shit on lock down. I was stronger and braver and I knew how to handle my relationships. I mean, I wasn’t and I didn’t. It was all a façade. You want to know why? Because I never explored how I felt about myself. I explored my relationship and what that meant. I explored my connection to this other human and how it impacted my life. But I never asked myself how I felt about myself during and after everything that went down. I just decided that since things were better, I was better. That’s just not how it works though.
I built a glass house and I shined that thing like what. Windexed the fuck outta my glorious clear and fragile castle. Never did I ever consider that it was open to the elements. Never did I ever acknowledge how easily it would shatter.
I had a few brief relationships. Each was a little shitty in its own right, but nothing earth shattering. Just run of the mill disappointments.
I ran more races (another marathon in the books). I read more books. I saw SO many places. I traveled the damn world. I met my niece and nephew. I stopped being a vegetarian (I’m sorry if this disappoints you, but it was a damn good idea for me). I found a clothing style that worked for me and my figure (boho chic?). I was promoted at work. I was unhappy at work. I was complacent at work. I was satisfied at work. I saw plays and dances and art work. I carpe’d, my friends. I truly did.
Then we all know what happened. I met my match in the worst way possible. I met the human that would singlehandedly undo me. You know why? Because he reinforced every single thing I hated about myself. To keep up with what was expected of me I lied, withheld, and got teeny tiny (emotionally). I made myself so fucking small. Every insecurity and ugliness that I didn’t deal with in my 20s came roaring back with a vengeance. Every thought of inadequacy. Every notion that I was off course. Every inkling that the world was not mine for the taking. I felt most of the time like I was hanging off a cliff with my short nails digging into a mostly unstable bedrock. It was terrifying and sad. Really, really sad.
The thing is it was so easy to stay in that place. First of all, I had this whole exciting life thing going on (see above). I was actually enjoying the things I was involved in. Unlike the relationship that took over my 20s, this relationship allowed me to be fully plugged into the world around me. I had a partner who, despite everything else, was willing to adventure with me. Or would allow me (notice the shitty word choice, but I’m owning it) to adventure solo. I thought because I was still living my life I had it figured out.
So why were things so broken? Well, because of me, obviously. I was undeserving of goodness which is why, in the middle of so much joy, I was such a miserable human. Why couldn’t I just accept what I had and be happy? These are questions that were posed to me. Actually, these were statements made to me. You want greater specificity? Okay. This is what it looked like: “I know that we don’t really have a physical relationship and we never discuss the future, but we have so much amazing stuff going on. I am happy with how we are and I’m really sorry you can’t be. Maybe we should end things if you are that unhappy.” Here’s what I should have said in response: “Yes. That is the best idea.” Here is what I did say: “No, I’m sorry. I was just thinking crazy thoughts. I AM happy with our life together. I AM happy to see where things go. I am just being shallow and greedy.” No fucking joke my friends. That is what things look like.
I had, somewhat overnight, become a groveling, sniveling, shell of a human. I didn’t even know who the fuck I was and what was more terrifying is that I was able to split myself. I could have fun in the moment of a thing (i.e. travel) while secretly mourning all the things I didn’t have in the quietest, least obtrusive way possible.
You know so much else of what’s happened (or you can look back in the archives if you are new here) so I just want to focus on the lessons. What I learned. Who I became.
I learned the following: people are as shitty to you as you will let them be, things aren’t fair; they just are and if you don’t like it, you have to have the strength to say so; if someone lies to be with you, it isn’t romantic, they’ve just shown you their true colors; you have to properly grieve the ending of something but you also have to take the time to explore what YOU did to make that thing end or implode; you have to explore why you don’t want to end things when it’s clear there should be an ending; if you give people space to do so, they will show you the best and worst of humanity; even the most embarrassing and tragic ending is something you can recover from; a learning curve doesn’t mean you never do something again, but it might mean that you don’t do it for as long as you did the first time around; and you shouldn’t ever, ever, ever, ever say yes when you mean no.
The biggest lesson I learned (so big it deserves its own line): you will always have the opportunity to rewrite your story, but you have to make the decision to do so first.
I am not defined by my 30s but I am really fucking happy to leave them. Not because I only have regrets but because I’m going to do this decade differently. I’m determined. Come hell or high water. I’m in it to win it. Go big or go home.
I’ll let you in on some of the deets tomorrow.
Happy ‘this week is almost fucking over’ y’all.
L.
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