Turning 30 — Owning Badass!

P.T. Shravani
Jul 23, 2017 · 6 min read
Source: Google

As is the trend and a representation of everything that is wrong with the world at present, like millions of others, I fish out my phone from under the pillow and log into my Facebook account — right after I wake up sleepy-eyed, with a growling stomach that’s aching to empty itself in the commode.

Yea right, it’s my birthday and I am excited, but somehow scrolling through Facebook feeds has become more existentially important to me than checking my own notifications, which really makes no sense because you have to wade through a tonne of garbage before you can filter out something of use.

One does occasionally stumble upon pearls of wisdom on certain lucky days of Facebook-browsing, as I did today — when I came across some absolutely wacky and hard-hitting piece of reality weaved into this short, crisp and definitely stern piece : You Aren’t Lazy — You’re Just Terrified: On Paralysis And Perfectionism (http://www.ravishly.com/you-arent-lazy-youre-just-terrified-paralysis-and-perfectionism)

And so I here I am, up and about to write about how I feel about turning 30, because of course, Facebook can’t do justice to the train-wreck of thoughts running through my mind right now. Here I am, to simply do something I love doing without rehearsing it in my brain fifty times over — write. And share what I feel, with the hope, that somewhere, someone reading this, feels the same.

I have always been absolutely thrilled before each birthday, right since childhood, experiencing a kind of inexplicable happiness that goes beyond receiving birthday wishes, bumps and thumps, or even gifts aplenty.

Maybe because I find it fun to measure how far I’ve come since the day I arrived on planet earth, crying and bawling in a sanitized, hospital room :D

Or maybe because I see each birthday as a “second chance” of doing something I passed up the year before.

And while all those “second chances” have dried up and I still haven’t lost that flab around the waist, or written that book, or fixed that hair, or that temper (I’m almost there), the lead-up to 30 has been nothing short of real and chaotic. With countless life lessons thrown in like paprika sprinkled over the relatively undramatic santula.

So yesterday, when my husband asked if I missed the crazier, louder way of bringing in my birthday from a few years ago, it really got me thinking. And it took me less than ten seconds to say — no, I didn’t miss it quite as much.

Sure, those were happy, innocent times back in school when simple, underrated joy lay in walking around the entire class distributing chocolates among your friends and classmates.

And of course, adult memories of having partied with careless abandon during college days is what resonated with ushering in birthdays with a bang! Because “tomorrow’s a new day, right?” And transformations seemed like a block of ice you could just glide by.

All’s hunky-dory for the day (or the night, rather),but nothing really changes the day after.

The “tomorrows” never become the “today.”

You don’t suddenly metamorphose into the disciplined, committed, hard-working person you vowed to be.

You still get worked up over idiots.

You still put up with that horrendous, soul-killing job.

You still eat junk.

You still sleep late, tired, after watching mindless sitcoms to escape boredom and loneliness.

You still don’t drop those toxic people from your life.

You still don’t take up that hobby because “I’ll do it when I have the time and money.”

You still depend on Friday/Saturday nights to save you from the drudgery called life.

Which is why hitting 30 feels so much like a dam bursting in all its fury, simply because it’s tired holding up and waiting for so long.

It may not necessarily bring about that cinematic interval-like moment in your life, but yes, it does make those nagging voices in your head and your heart grow louder. These voices then become so overpowering you have no choice but to listen to them. Whether or not you eventually do their bidding.

That is when it dawns on you that -

Waiting for those ‘tomorrows’ did you no good, because you kept trashing all your ‘todays’.

You really do need to step up your game and work your butt off, and be committed, and hard-working, and all those boring things, because — paise. Career. Upping your self-worth. And you’re-your-own-safety-net-boy!

You cant get worked up over every idiot, every detail — because -high B.P. -and you want to live longer and not die of a premature stroke.

You really do need those 7–8 hours of sleep a night — because otherwise, Imma-pass-out!

You can afford to eat biryanis, pizzas, or momos a maximum of once a week because the threat of obesity and diabetes and high cholesterol and whatnot is real, and you will somehow do anything to avoid becoming a statistic for the next Pew Research study.

There are pain points in your body you’re only getting to discover now, so yoga/walking no more looks fancy, it’s key to your survival.

You can finally drop that friend who hasn’t bothered to wish you on your birthday/new job/new child/new whatever or even cared to ask how you are, but wants to keep you in the loop about all the “happening” stuff in his/her life.

You can also drop the ones who think you’re maybe a blank abyss in the grand scheme of the Universe and only talk to you when you call/text them.

You really don’t care about office politics or gossip behind your back, and that you have finally managed to let ‘log kya kahenge’ fall by the wayside — because frankly, who at this age has so many fucks to give?

There are so many ways the 30-year mark knocks you up and twists you around the sides — You probably don’t have as many friends anymore, and you can laugh about it because the ones you want don’t want you and vice versa. Your family probably misunderstands you because they clearly don’t understand what passion’s got to do with working on a job. Society judges you because, shucks, you’re married for years now but you don’t have a kid? And god forbid if you’re single, then how can you function alone without a jeevansathi by your side?

There are so many questions it poses, many of which have no immediate or definite answers.

But one question stares at you when you sit on the edge of your 30s — how much time do you have before you sort it all?

Be it that dream house on the beach, or the dream career, or that round-the-world-trip, or that baby, or that haircut, or even just that dance workshop during the weekend — how much time do you have to live your life the way you have always wanted?

You find the answer to this in the question itself — You’re 30 already; and if you are lucky, you’ll get to see your salt-and-peppered self in the mirror three decades down the line.

And so, the right time is now. Even if it is imperfect, and will likely need some editing and polishing (as this piece likely does) as you go along.

That is why I embrace turning 30 — and look forward to those Friday nights where I can prop my legs up on the bed and read my favorite book, to watching horror movies at home over chilled beer and chicken starters, to meeting up more with the few real friends still opening up their hearts and lives for me, to bleeding my heart out on paper and on the internet because I hate having to make sense of these feelings and thoughts all on my own. To drowning out the noise and making sense of my voice.

And if it means moving the clutter away, bring it on!

To all who currently grace my life and to the ones who will come along next, the journey onward looks exciting because I now know I can tether my roots my to wings, and connect the dots from the past - to the present and future.

But just so I don’t fly too high and think of endless possibilities and of how much fun I’m going to be having hereon, 3–0 is also going to serve as a constant reminder of “bacche kab karoge?” as my mom very clearly asked me this morning, immediately after wishing me “Happy Birthday”.

So you see? When else will I find this exciting packaging of high-flying, hopeful, conflicting, frustrating, sobering, grounding emotions, if not at the dawn of 30?

P.T. Shravani

Written by

I lawyered my way through life, trying to be an adult, till I realized I was happier creating art and being a child again. Freelance Writer|Blogger|Movie Buff|

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