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30, Flirty, and Finally Becoming
Turning thirty is like standing in front of a mirror that reflects not just your face, but every decision you made in your twenties. Society tells us that by now, we should have it all figured out — the career, the calling, the clear identity. Since childhood, we’ve been asked to choose.
One major.
One path.
One version of ourselves to commit to, for life.
"Pick a lane and stay in it," they said.
"Be consistent."
"Be clear."
But I never understood why.
Why must I be one thing?
I've always been many.
Different passions, different interests — all of them alive in me at different times. I’ve been a student of physics, a lover of art, a maker of things with my hands. I draw, I sing, I craft, I sell, I communicate, I design. I dance. I dream. I evolve.
And yet, the world made me feel fragmented because of it.
"You always start things but never finish them," my mother would say, her voice echoing in my mind.
"You need to pick something and stick with it."
I used to envy those who knew early on who they wanted to be — the ones who chose a profession, followed the map, and stayed the course. It seemed easier. Cleaner. More accepted.
But I’ve never been linear.
And perhaps that’s not a flaw. Perhaps that’s my power.
Still, there are days when I feel behind.
Like I haven’t “made it” yet. Like I’m stuck.
But when I look closer, I see evidence of becoming everywhere.
I was good at math. I earned a physics degree.
I’m creative — I can design, photograph, craft, speak, sell, and move.
My interests are a constellation, not a straight line.
So why should I choose only one star to orbit?
This modern world, with its demand for clarity and specialization, has often made me doubt myself. It's easy to feel invisible when you don’t fit the mold. To feel paralyzed when the world says you’re too much or not enough — depending on the hour.
But here’s what I’ve come to know:
I don’t need to fit into one box to be real.
I don’t need to excel at one thing to be valuable.
I am all of these things.
And together, they are what make me whole.
So maybe thirty is flirty and thriving — but maybe thirty is the origin story.
Maybe it’s the real beginning.
Not a deadline, but a launch.
For those of us who are multi-passionate, ever-evolving, and still finding our way, thirty isn’t late — it’s right on time.
We are not behind.
We are becoming.
And life is just getting started.
