The End of Riding Raggedy
I have been having a few revelations over the last couple of weeks. Not sure if it’s because of the self-inventory that tends to happen when a new year comes, or because I’m turning 30 in just a few short weeks.
Me and my friends have talked about who we need to be, or who we are supposed to become once we turn 30.
For some people, it’s settling down and getting more serious about a relationship. For others, it’s buying their own home, or getting a new job, or even changing careers completely.
Some of my friends said this will be the year they tell it like it is, or eliminate toxic people in their lives.
I want all of those things too, but they aren’t going to magically happen.
I’m not going to wake up more brilliant, more zen, more loveable, more courageous and just more on Feb. 3, 2012. I’m still going to have to get out of bed and put in the work towards those things like I do everyday.
But what I have noticed is I’ve looked back at my younger self, around 24 and found inspiration. I’ve decided, I want her drive, her self-esteem, (her body) and her ability to take risks, but add the wisdom, patience and good sense I’ve managed to gain since then.
I shouldn’t be working harder, I should be working smarter.
I shouldn’t be loving harder, I should be loving the right people who work at loving me back.
When I was younger, I beat the hell out of cars. I’d drive and drive and drive and not get oil changes regularly. I wouldn’t get a new tire until one got flat. There was one time I even drove across state lines on a tire filled with fix a flat.
Youthful hubris is a trip.
I wouldn’t dare think of doing anything like that these days. God looks out for babies and fools, and clearly babies can’t drive cars.
These days I’m paranoid with each and every rattle or bump and the service department at Ford know me pretty well. Any risk I take with my car due to lack of funds is a calculated one, where I know I have a certain window to keep riding raggedy before something more inconvenient and expensive happens. Even when I’m forced to ride raggedy, I already know the clock is ticking and anything other than getting it right ASAP isn’t an option.
That’s what I think 30 is going to be for me. The end of riding raggedy, and the beginning of being more calculated and organized in dealing with life.
I’ve gone through enough to not fly as fast and reckless as I used to, but I am still going to fly and fly high and have a full tank of gas and some great snacks.
These days I probably won’t fly with no particular destination in mind, but I will have googled my potential routes first and pick the destination with the best restaurants and shopping.
I think the 20s is an experimental decade filled with great triumphs and equally great failures. In your 20s you can afford these highs and lows because you are physically and mentally resilient. You still swear you are immortal. You just know someone is going to save you (Mom and Dad).
I think the 30s, for most of us is an age of cautious optimism. The possibilities are still endless, but you are very aware of what it takes to get what you want and you’ll have a keener sense of if you’ll actually be satisfied once you have it.
You are aware that people you love can let you down, and while it hurts, you understand you have the power to love them in spite of themselves, love em from a distance or leave them alone altogether.
Just like your cars, you can’t keep pushing your life to the limit without the proper maintanance and assume it will keep running at its best forever.