From Surviving to Thriving: My Journey to 30

As I sit down to write this, it's Tuesday, July 9th, and in less than a week, I'll be turning 30. I won’t pretend that the milestone doesn’t make me anxious, yet despite the fear of what’s to come, I also feel an undeniable sense of relief. My twenties were no walk in the park. Sure, there's a certain beauty in being young, wild, and carefree, but honestly, I’ve come to realize that the glorification of your twenties is wildly overrated.

Society, especially for women, sells the lie that our value peaks in our twenties. I can't count the Instagram posts where men claim that women "expire" once they hit 30. It's tempting to ask if they think their mothers are expired because they're no longer in the "prime" age range men deem desirable. While it’s not my job to end misogyny, these harmful beliefs chip away at women’s self-worth. We’re told that once we hit 30, we become invisible, less desirable. This conditioning runs deep and can cause lifelong damage. Women are so pressured to remain youthful and beautiful that some even undergo extreme surgeries, sometimes losing their lives in the process, all to fit a standard designed by a society that values us less as we age.

I’ve felt this pressure too. When I turned 20, I remember feeling old—crying over the loss of my teenage years. By 21, I was celebrating with my first legal drink at the Cheesecake Factory, yet I couldn’t shake the anxiety of aging. I remember hearing someone at work say they were 24, and I thought that sounded ancient. Fast forward to today, as I approach 30, those years now seem so juvenile. I look back at photos of myself in my early twenties, so full of life and innocence, and I admire that naive girl. I remember my job at Target and nights spent out drinking with friends. That time feels like a distant memory, but it fills me with gratitude, even though I’ll never get those nostalgic days back.

As much as we romanticize the past, my early twenties were some of the hardest years of my life. Hospital stays, an eating disorder, crippling social anxiety, and a cocktail of medications to keep myself going. I was in a toxic relationship that nearly broke me, and I genuinely believed I wouldn’t live to see 30. Despite how “perfect” I may have looked on the outside, I was in a dark place, and I didn’t think life was worth living.

Looking back, there’s a lot I’m not proud of—not so much in how I treated others, but in how I treated myself. Yet, as I approach 30, I see how much I’ve grown. There’s a stark contrast between who I was at 20 and who I am today. Many women dread aging, especially past 25, as though it marks the beginning of a slow decline. We fixate on what we don’t have, rather than appreciating the blessings we do. I recently texted a friend about a new relationship, telling him, “I’m almost 30, still unmarried, no house, no kids. I feel like I’m running out of time.” His response was simple: “Can’t you just enjoy it? Why are women always on such a tight schedule?”

His words stuck with me. Each passing year makes me feel like my chances of finding love are shrinking, a belief shaped by society’s view that women over 29 aren’t as valuable. I’ve convinced myself that my best years are behind me. “I’m not in my prime anymore,” I told him. “What if I’m wasting time with someone who’s still in their party phase while I’m trying to settle down?” I sounded like I was 49, not 30, talking about fertility and life plans as if there’s a strict deadline to happiness.

This pressure isn’t unique to me. Whether you’re male or female, we’ve all fallen victim to the endless Instagram scroll, watching our peers hit those big life milestones—graduating, buying homes, getting engaged, promotions—it’s easy to feel like we’ve failed. It’s a familiar refrain: “I haven’t accomplished anything.” But when I take a step back and look at my last year, I see how far I’ve come. I manifested my dream of living in Europe, I found lifelong friends, improved my Spanish, and spent a year traveling. That’s no small feat.

Society tells us we’re supposed to hit certain milestones in a particular order, but the truth is, our journey is our own. I may not be following the traditional path, but that’s okay. I’ve only been in Italy for two weeks, and I’ve already grown in ways I didn’t expect. Last week, I unfollowed my exes and blocked their numbers. It took a year, but I finally did it, and for that, I’m proud.

One of the biggest lessons I’ve (repeatedly) learned over the last ten years is that red flags don’t magically turn green. No amount of hope, time, or effort will change the fundamental truths about a person’s character. In my twenties, I often ignored the warning signs, believing that love could conquer all, or that with enough patience, people would change. But I’ve learned that the right person won’t make you second-guess their intentions, nor will they make you feel like you have to prove your worth. Real love comes from mutual respect and acceptance, not from bending over backwards to meet someone else's standards. You never have to convince the right person that you’re worthy of love—they will already see it in you.

If you ever feel like you’re standing still, I encourage you to look back at where you were a year ago. Chances are, you’ve come further than you realize. Growth often happens in subtle, quiet ways—through the lessons we learn, the challenges we face, and the resilience we build in the process. It’s easy to get caught up in comparing our lives to others, but your journey is uniquely yours, and every step forward, no matter how small, counts. Celebrate the person you’ve become, and give yourself credit for the progress you’ve made, even if it doesn’t fit into society’s narrow definition of success. Life isn't a race, and where you are right now is exactly where you’re meant to be. Every twist, turn, and detour has brought you closer to understanding who you are and what you truly want out of life. So trust your path, honor your growth, and keep moving forward. Here's to the next decade! Who's with me?