Originally posted on Palace Ancestors January 12, 2023
In exactly one week, I turn thirty.
I’ve thought about this often over the past few months, how I’ll no longer be in my twenties. From an early age we’re told that our twenties are the most exciting time of our life: we’re young and can do whatever we want; the world is ours, and we need to take what we want from it while we have the opportunity.
I remember being a teenager, maybe thirteen or fourteen, and reading tabloid magazines. I don’t remember particulars (thank god) but I do remember the overall message was that younger is better; prettier is better. Thinner is better. As long as you’re young and beautiful, you can do what you want. You can get away with anything.
“I carved my name into any living thing and called it love, and believed I was this significant, glinting thing”
I don’t necessarily remember this being the case, but I remember feeling as though it was. In my mid-twenties—I’d say around 23 to 27—I thought I was invincible. I could say what I wanted, do what I wanted, be who I wanted to be. I carved my name into any living thing and called it love, and believed I was this significant, glinting thing. I was a part of groups of people who did interesting things: poetry readings, art shows, live music in dingy places, and fancy dress parties because we could. My mid-twenties were glitter infused and careening off the tracks; my mid-twenties were a fever dream.
What no one tells us is that your twenties can be complete hell, too.
My twenties were only hell about half the time. Even during those mid-years of euphoric stupor, I often felt like I was mimicking my way through: “is this what I’m supposed to do? Is this who I’m supposed to be?” I did things I didn’t necessarily want to and paid the price: I was stupid I hurt a lot of people and felt shitty about it, but didn’t necessarily recognize what I was doing at the time.
“Gliding through parties like a ghost, someone else piloting it, making it move and speak and dance”
And then there were many times when the body I inhabit didn’t feel like my own, gliding through parties like a ghost, someone else piloting it, making it move and speak and dance. It’s only in the past two or three years that I’ve learned to tune in to my body and notice what it says to me, how it speaks in whispers but if you learn to listen, you’ll hear it every time. I can’t tell if this comes with age or having done so much therapy—likely a combination of both.
The last few years of my twenties have been spent learning who I am and what I need: I know I need a lot more time alone than most people, and I know I start to lose my footing if I don’t do the things I need to do: journal, write poetry, spend time in nature. Read too many books and get enough sleep. Not drinking caffeinated anything. I know what I believe in and what I don’t, what I want to spend time on and what I don’t. I have a solid sense of who I am, which is more than I can say of myself at 20, or even at 25.
Now, I’m turning 30. I’m entering a new decade and leaving behind whatever doesn’t serve me: saying yes when I want to say no. Spending too much time around other people when I need to be alone. Going to parties when all I want to do is stay home and read for hours, going to bed when I need to and not pushing my body past what it’s capable of.
My twenties taught me a lot of things, but most importantly, I’ve learned that life can be anything I want it to be. I can start a new hobby or stop one that I don’t want to spend any more time on. I can cut and dye my hair or let it grow out. I can eat what I want, when I want. Now that I know this, I know the next decade is going to be exactly what I need it to be—it’ll be exactly what I make of it.
Honestly, I can’t wait.
Similar to the end of the year—and my previous post here on Palace Ancestors—I’ve been thinking of what I want to take with me. I’ve included some of what I came up with below, but I know I’ll think of more as the days go by.
Some things I accomplished that I’m proud of:
- Taking the extra year in undergrad to major in something I actually wanted to major in
- Committing to changing how I spend my time so I get enough time to recharge
- Changing careers when I realized the first one wasn’t right for me
- Having a poetry chapbook published
- Having my first full-length poetry book be accepted for publication
- Learning to say what I’m actually thinking
- Working at multiple different publications (and committing to continue on this path)
Some things I’m looking forward to in the next decade:
- Finishing grad school (four more months!)
- Spontaneity: I just painted a wall in our house on a whim, but I’m working on being open to whatever the world throws at me
- Waaay more traveling—I’ve put this off too long
- Improving on certain skills—I’d like to paint and practice piano more
- Publishing more books of poetry
- Publishing my memoir
That’s all for today. Thanks for reading, and may the coming weeks be gentle and kind to you.
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