Five Things I've Learned in the Year Before 30
When you don’t know where you’re going, just stand still.
Tomorrow, I turn 30. I’ve never been someone who puts a lot of stock into age, because it’s always felt meaningless: I've been wise at 19, immature at 23, settled down at 26, antsy and impatient at 29. Thirty is just a number, not a sign that I’ve Finally Made It or Am Running Out of Time or anything else the world might want me to think.
And yet. Maybe it’s the media, maybe it’s hormones, but I can’t help but feel differently about this birthday than I have in the past. It’s not fear; when I think of entering my thirties, I feel excited and curious and ready and relieved, not scared. I know that the next decade of my life will be filled with ups and downs like any other, just perhaps with a few more gray hairs to show for it.
What has me feeling some sort of way, I think, is not what’s coming, but what’s behind me: 12 months of profound, game-changing personal growth. When I look back on this past year, I don’t see myself hitting some career milestone or achieving any major goal; in fact, I didn’t hit some of the goals I’d originally planned to (*cough* my still-extremely-unfinished-novel *cough*). What I see is a girl who worked hard on herself, who strove to be better, who thought hard about the life she wants to be living and the person she wants to be, and put in the effort to make that happen.
Which isn’t to say, of course, that I’ve got it all figured out; I absolutely do not (and probably never will!). But what I do know, now, feels valuable and real. And I’m going to share a few of those things with you.
When you don’t know where you’re going, just stand still.
Late last year, I heard this line from Noah Cyrus’ (fantastic) album The Hardest Part: “when you don’t know where you’re going, just stand still.” Despite being written by a 22-year-old Hollywood nepo kid, it hit something deep in me. As a rule, whenever I feel lost or depressed, I feel the urgent need to do something; to plan a party or vacation or assignment, anything to keep my mind off the fear that I don’t know who I am or what I’m doing.
Unsurprisingly, this never works well in the long run. My feelings inevitably catch up with me, and I end up even more down and confused than I was before. But when I heard those lyrics, I realized that maybe, I could try something different. Instead of rushing through it, I could take the time to sit with my emotions and just be. And when I tried that a few times this year—not forcing myself to plan or write or take action, but just waiting out the fear and letting it exist—the effect was undeniable. By standing still, I gained a better understanding of myself, and figured out what I really needed.
Friendships end, but your community grows.
Last year, the deepest friendship of my life came to an end. As anyone who’s gone through a best-friend breakup knows, they’re the worst, even when they’re for the best. As much as I generally feel at peace with the situation, there have been more than a few days since then that I’ve felt sad, lonely, and regretful, badly missing the person I used to talk to all day, every day, about anything and everything.
But whenever those feelings came on, I reminded myself to look around at the people who are in my life: the many family, friends, and neighbors who live close and far, who are of all ages and backgrounds, who I met 10 years ago and 10 months ago. A community of people who show up and make time and care. Young Rachel, who always longed for a close friend group and always felt left out, would never have dreamed of a network like this. And the older I get, the more it grows! I feel so grateful.
Self-kindness doesn’t have to be “earned.”
For all of my life, I’ve bitten my nails. It’s a gross, embarrassing habit that I’ve tried and failed many times to quit. I used to get so angry at myself whenever I looked down and saw my jagged, too-short nails; couldn’t I just have more self-control? What was wrong with me?
In all my time berating myself for this flaw, it never occurred to me that I could do something about it. Then, early this year, I got my first dip manicure, which made my nails basically un-biteable for three weeks (and looked damn good, too). As much as I loved the results, I felt guilty, like I didn’t deserve to have such an easy fix, because I hadn’t stopped biting my nails on my own.
It took a few months for me to get over that guilt. But eventually, I asked myself: why do I feel like I have to earn self-kindness? If a manicure makes me feel and look good, and it solves my biting problem, great! I don’t have to conquer every flaw in order to be nice to myself.
See yourself through others’ eyes.
You know that meme that’s like “I wish there was an app where my friends could press a button to say they’re not mad at me?” That is me, to the core—no matter how often I’m invited to plans or how much fun we all seemingly have hanging out, it’s hard for me to see myself as likable and worthy in others’ eyes. And it’s not just with friends; when I teach classes or hold events, I struggle to see myself as the capable person they all apparently believe I am. In general, I still see myself as an awkward, weird kid who tried too hard to fit in.
I haven’t totally gotten past this insecurity (clearly). But over the past year, I have done some hard, important work to try to see myself through others’ eyes. When I wonder why anyone would want my writing advice, I tell myself that these students paid money to take not just any class, but one taught by me. When I worry that I’ve said something wrong or been “too much” around a friend, I think about how long our friendship has lasted, or how they were the ones who initiated the hangout. I remind myself, over and over, that the person I am in my head is not the person that others see me as. And maybe, hopefully, one day those two selves will merge.
Find the simplest routes to happiness, and lean into them.
There are a thousand things that make me happy: publishing stories, going out to dinner with friends, exploring new cities. But I am never, ever happier than when I am sitting in the backyard of our house on a beautiful night. Or when my husband and I are walking our dog to the coffee shop on an early Sunday morning. Or when I’m reading a book on the couch, cozy in blankets with the candles lit nearby. These simple, perfect moments make me realize how most of our lives, even the good stuff, is really just noise. And when we find the stuff that really matters—what makes us feel the most content or safe or loved—we should do all we can to lean into them, as often as possible.
Love,
Rachel
Rachel, it's always great to see an email from you. Again, I enjoyed reading about your (often innermost)thoughts and feelings. I found myself thinking, " I've been there!"
When you do finish your novel, I'll be excited to read it.
But I'll always look forward to reading about you and your experiences!
Happy birthday 🎂
PS -Wait till one of your friends has a thirty year old "child" and think "how can I be over sixty and still feel like I am eighteen?!"