I think it’s one of those de ja vu things
I’m going on 31 (this month). Surprising for me, I’m not scared about the whole age thing. I recently had one of those “eureka!” moments where I reflected on my 20s - and ended up relieved that the next decade of my life was going to be totally different. Yes, the fun, the friends, the social life, the easy job - they were awesome. Then again, the lack-of-money, the lack-of-house, the lack-of-stable-relationships, the lack-of-career-aspirations - heck, the lack of LIFE aspirations: not such good things. I’m looking forward to a decade of change, and I know that it will change for the better.
But still, I also feel strangely immature. It’s the parents. I’m trying to figure out how they, at the same age, did it? Cause, gosh darnit, I’m… so… very… tired… all the time. Each day is a memory before it really begins, and I’m scared that the next time I look up - I’ll be going on 41 (and no, the problem is not vitamins, exercise, or attitude). I’ve heard it doesn’t slow done.
When they were in their 30s, my parents must have been superhuman. They married early, had a kid early, were separated by a 13 hour time difference early. By the time they were 30, they had immigrated, had another kid, and moved to the equivalent of hicksville where there were no other ex-pats. In their 30s, they raised two kids, took care of a house, tended a garden, and looked after an aging parent - all while working 2 full time jobs with commutes that were at least 45 minutes each way. Granted, they didn’t have the world’s wonder dog, Bailey, but I just don’t get it. Don’t get how they did it. Don’t understand why I don’t have the same stamina. And I’m left wondering if I’m just lazy, or if life just requires more now that everything is so connected.
Regardless, I have an overwhelming amount of respect for them - and for anyone else that turns what could be life’s rat race into a tortoise’s stroll.