Thirty

I often refer to the last decade as the turbulent 20s—a period of chasing identities, exponential growth, feeling lost but pretending to be carefree, and cycling through phases of rebuilding myself. As much as I enjoyed these years, they often felt like a whirlpool—constantly pulling me into highs and lows and dictating my mood. These days, I’m better at coasting through the ups and downs while savouring the quiet moments. I’m not fighting the waves anymore.

If I had to choose a single lesson to symbolize turning 30, it would be this: learning to walk the slippery line between ideals and reality. In my 20s, I often fantasized that my 30s would bring more confidence and clarity. Now that I’m here, it feels good, but also unceremonial—confidence is steadier, but clarity comes and goes.

I used to blur the line between using external models to motivate self-improvement and relying on them to validate my worth. I placed people and goals on pedestals, but up close everyone and everything is flawed, and that sense of awe fades. The real gap wasn’t between me and them—it was between who I was and who I wanted to be. I’ve gotten better at owning my imperfections, and my focus is on continuous improvement nowadays. I’m no longer chasing some idealized version of myself or my life. My advice of the decade is to walk at your own pace.

As I’m writing this, I’m once again in a transitional period with a lot of uncertainty. The good thing is that I’m free of the anxiety, shame, and desire to run away from it all. It’s taken me years of inner work to get here, and I see it as a major milestone. That’s what I’m really celebrating—the magic of living with imperfections and uncertainties.

I’m stepping into my 30s feeling more aligned and at peace with myself—more whole. I hope it will be a good decade, and I’ll do my best to make it one. But if some things go to shit, that’s fine too.

Cheers to that!