Reflections on 30

Dear Team Joy,

Today is my birthday. I am 30 years old!

It’s wild to think that this exact body has grown and changed so much from embracing spunky girlhood to fully embodying womanhood. Life is unbelievable.

When I was younger, I imagined 30 as an elusive future moment when my whole adult life would be “figured out.” I envisioned success at 30 as working a corporate job that made me feel significant, living with a partner that made me feel connected, and owning a home that felt secure. I imagined it would be something like The Game of Life.

I loved Life as a kid— I loved that you could innocently roll dice to determine the “important” factors of your future – profession, house, children. I was certain then that I would have enough turns around the board by 30 to have acquired it all.  The game was like a simple, capitalistic version of my humanity – as if life was less about being in relationship with living things, and more about acquiring identities, achievements, and wealth into my little toy van.

In this game, and in what I perceived culturally, the equation for happiness and success seemed simple: stable partnership, esteemed profession, and beautiful home. I was confident that with enough focus I would win (…I mean be happy). 🙃 After all, I am quite competitive.

Yet here I am. At 30, I am single without children. I am renting a home with roommates. My profession feels less like something I could select from a stale deck of cards, and more like a made-up project.  There are signs of having failed the equation all around me, and there’s a real uninvited grief in that acknowledgement. My pride is disappointed that my life isn’t successful in the ways I thought it might be at this point.

So what happened? Did I become unfocused? Did I become lazy?

As I have been reflecting, I realize it wasn’t a lack of effort, but rather a conscious choice to start orienting my life differently.

When I was younger I was committed to living a “successful” life. Now I am committed to living a truthful one.

But what does it mean to live a truthful life?

It means paying attention to my own desires, needs, and feelings. Becoming more aware of what works for me instead of always accommodating to what culture dictates I should prioritize.

It means learning to not force what I believe should be, and instead learning to make peace with things as they are.

It means appreciating that big life moments on our path can generate seemingly contradictory emotions, like joy and grief, simultaneously.

It means becoming more willing to share my inner world with others, in an honest way, instead of telling people what I sense they want to hear.

I learned intellectually many years ago through self-help books, reflections, and leadership programs that living a truthful life was probably crucial to my well-being. But it was only after the emergence of Crohn’s disease in my life, when I had to really reckon with my own mortality, that I was able to get clear on what mattered to me. I internally committed to prioritizing truth over success when they inevitably came into conflict.

I am still learning and coming to terms with what that means. But my reckoning with this question is not unique. In her amazing book, The Top 5 Regrets of the Dying, Bronnie Ware, a palliative care nurse shared with us, that the most common regret she heard from her dying patients was:

“I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.”

My commitment to living a truthful life over a successful one has undoubtedly made my performance on the external markers of success suffer. But my inner world and my relationship with myself has begun to flourish. This new orientation continues to be a work in progress, but telling the truth has been a process of re-earning my own trust.

Only through trusting my intuition, mind, and heart, am I building the confidence to face the vulnerability of going after what I really want in life. To choose the relationships, places, and work experiences that are right for me. Not just once, but again and again, as I get it wrong, learn some more, and continue to grow. It’s not a destination. I have learned enough and worked with enough clients to know it never gets “figured out.” Maybe only in death. But being alive means a continual process of discovery, and I am pretty excited to keep on living. 🙂

So, as I look toward my 30s here is what I am seeking more of:

• Easy ocean days, fresh fruit, and long walks in nature.

• Cherishing my friendships with meandering conversations over meals, tea, and board games.

• The adventurous outdoor activities (cue: skiing, surfing, biking, long boarding) that make me feel like I am flying.

• More silliness— let’s bring back the giggles.

• Continuing to not go through my illness alone — bravely asking my loved ones, health professionals, and community for support and reaching out to support others who may be suffering.

• Grace and compassion for my body as it changes.

• Dedicating myself to owning my voice - writing and speaking for that moment when I feel that expansive breath in my chest that lets me know I have landed the words just right.

• Dancing and getting lost in the music.

• Showing up for the people I care about, even imperfectly.

• Growing my skills, knowledge, and collaborations to support clients in living and leading well.

• Setting up a home that allows me to cook and garden with loved ones.

• Having the courage to fall in love again, and build a sustaining partnership that feels expansive.

In short— tell the truth and choose joy. That’s what I have figured out so far in these 30 years of life.

Thank you being on this journey with me!

Love,

Isabel

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P.S. I’d love to know:

• If you are older than 30, I would love to know, what did turning 30 feel like to you?

• If you are younger than 30, what do you imagine 30 to mean or be?

• If you are also turning 30, cheers! What does this moment mean to you?