Thirty, Flirty & Figuring it out

No one warned me that my thirties would feel like being the main character in a movie I forgot I was cast in — juggling plot twists, doing my own stunts, and still trying to look fabulous in the chaos. I used to think adulthood came with a guidebook. Turns out, it comes with bills, burnout, and bizarre body aches that show up after sleeping the “wrong way.” But more than anything, it comes with this deep, unshakable truth: you are now fully responsible for your life. Every choice, every yes, every no — it’s all on you. And honey, that realization? Terrifying. Like “middle-of-the-night-existential-crisis” terrifying.

There’s no more blaming daddy for not packing the right lunch or hoping someone else makes the tough call. It’s all me — navigating career moves, managing health that suddenly doesn’t bounce back like it used to, nurturing friendships, and attempting to be a well rounded partner without losing  my damn mind. It’s overwhelming. It’s messy. And still… it’s beautiful.

What’s wild is, I used to daydream about the life I have now. The job that feels aligned, the sanctuary I call home, the people in my orbit — even if I don’t see them every day, even if our connection is virtual or spiritual or somewhere in between. I once hoped for this. And now, here I am, living it. That’s not just growth — that’s magic.

But let me be real — the glow-up wasn’t linear. It came with its own mess: heartbreaks I didn’t see coming, friendships that quietly faded, and moments where I swore I was behind everyone else. But the greatest plot twist? The quiet moments. The ones where I catch myself in the middle of it all — messy cornrows, face mask on, sipping tea at midnight — and think, “Wait a damn minute… I’m really doing this.” And doing it well.

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned in this chapter is this: people deserve to be experienced, not just explained. For so long, I let other people’s opinions shape my interactions — “She’s like this,” or “You can’t trust him,” or “They’re not your type.” I absorbed secondhand stories like they were gospel. And in doing that, I missed out on some truly incredible connections.

Now? I choose curiosity over commentary. I let people show me who they are. And it’s been one of the most liberating shifts of my adult life. Because some of the people I’ve met — the ones others warned me about — have turned out to be the most healing, hilarious, and real ones in my corner. And that, my friend, is the kind of lesson you don’t get in your twenties. That’s grown woman wisdom.

So yes, I’m still learning. Still unlearning. Still discovering what peace feels like in a world that constantly demands performance. But one thing I know for sure: this version of me — soft, strong, sass-filled, and self-aware — she’s the one I’ve been waiting to meet.

And if you’re out there in your own season of figuring it out, wondering if you’re behind or if you’re doing enough — let me tell you something:

You’re not late.

You’re not lost.

You’re in it.

You’re living.

You’re doing the damn thing.

Keep going. The best chapters are still being written.