Life Begins At 30

Our parents once told us that our youth was going to be the best time of our lives.

This turned out to be irresponsibly untrue.

We then spent years getting conditioned into believing that our 20s was supposed to be this brilliant coming-of-age, liberating fun-filled time, enjoying university, travelling, having experiences, falling in love, building our career…

But adulthood did not turn out to resemble an episode of FRIENDS. Nor did it resemble Sex and The City, New Girl, The Mindy Project or How I Met Your Mother. (Although watching Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt felt oddly familiar, for some reason)

When I entered into my 20’s I was in a long-distance, long-term relationship with an avoidantly-attached  man-child, who didn’t really want to be with me, but was far too cowardly to say anything. Residing more so than living, in a prison cell-esque student flat in Leeds, sharing facilities with a bunch of strangers who I did NOT end up befriending, enrolled on a degree I wasn’t all that interested in, but which  all the adults in my life (family, teachers, friends of the family) had pushed me toward. That and the new £9 grand a year tuition fee loan, that we were all told was a completely fine and financially sound investment.

Things did not, in fact, improve. At 22, freshly dumped, friendless, degree-less and on benefits, because no one would hire me on a permanent basis, I reluctantly moved back in with my disappointed Mum, in the hometown I hated. The one I’d spent my entire life trying to escape. Apparently landlords don’t like it when you cant pay rent.

I then spent the rest of the decade predominantly in this state – on-and-off benefits, in-and-out of bad rents all around Lancashire, in-and-out of even worse jobs, just chugging along, raw dogging my mental illness and undiagnosed Autism, fighting The Bad Thoughts.

And then…

COVID.

Praise be to the Gods, COVID changed everything. Skating, Tiktok, Cosplay, Transgenders… The discoveries unlocked a whole new world of possibility and information accessible to me. I found an entire community that had been here THIS WHOLE TIME. Because yes Id dabbled in fanfiction, anime, DnD, magic the gathering.. all as a kid and a teenager, but nerd culture and fandom was CRINGE. It wasn’t something you admitted to. It was something you kept secret, and put away in a secret room (psychically and metaphorically) while you pretended to be like everybody else and grow up and get a career and I don’t know, get married or something.

A youth being consistently harassed and bullied for being “an emo lesbian” was bad enough of an experience thanks, watching anime and dressing up was not something you admitted to enjoying, and the only acceptable games were Call of Duty, FIFA or Left For Dead and then only the lads could play those, unless you were hot or your boyfriend was cool.

Anyway, tangent aside, I will forever credit Lockdown with allowing me the spce, time and freedom to finally discover myself and what I wanted. I finally accepted my gender, I embraced my sexuality, I learnt to love myself a little more, I found friends (real ones), and as a result my confidence overtook the space my mental illness had occupied for well over a decade. I pushed back against the medical professionals until they gave me a few over-the-phone therapy sessions and a weeks prescription of Sertraline. I practiced new skills and taught myself a little about personal finance. I was able to rent a shared house and pay the rent on time and NOT go broke and have to starve or sit in the dark because the electricity got switched off.

Then I got a proper job. A good one. With benefits, a better working environment, kind management and mild-mannered, trying to be politically correct, Gen X coworkers. Yes they might be slightly racist and transphobic, but they want call you a slur to your face or start a punch up during your shift, and the customers don’t spit in your face or steal the cutlery.

And then I turned 30.

The year everybody dreads. The year everybody seems to want to avoid or hide from other people.

It was the best year of my life.

I remember just being so excited and ready to turn 30 and enter into this new decade of freedom.  Two years later and I haven’t been disappointed yet. For the first time in my life, I am happy. I have savings in a savings account. I have actual good friends, ones who love and support me, who I enjoy hanging out with. I have a future now too, with a my dream career plan in mind, opportunities and educational prospects.

20-year-old me could never.

Even at 25, my biggest dreams involved buying groceries and having working lights.

So in conclusion, in my opinion, life only gets better. Theres only up to go.

Don’t give up, even if it takes 10 years.

(And you will have to figure out how to live outside the bunker on your own for a bit)