"Things Never Change": How Turning 30 Showed Me They Do

To everyone who believes people never change I would like to
show this picture of me at 21 in Edinburgh. Ergh!

It is official: I am 30, and being a writer and human being, it has not passed me that it is a rather big age. My friends are rushing to the altar like it was genuinely impossible to marry after 30. This milestone seems scary to so many and so far it’s not been clear to me why. Is it that we, for the first time ever, numerically feel like there is no longer a connection to “being young“? After all, a third of the planet is now younger than me. "I still feel like I’m 21”, you hear a lot, “how can I suddenly be 30?” People speak about change so much but how have we changed? I used the impending doom on January 25 to really look back: how have I changed? Sure, I’m wiser and better, bla bla… but I actually saw some changes that at 21 I didn’t think possible.

1. Cats are better than dogs

That’s right, I was a cat person my entire life. “Entire life”? Hold the phone, of course not. If a lifetime is 21 years, then maybe. But I have become somewhat of a dog addict in my twenties, starting the decade firmly believing that I will end it with an engagement and a couple of cats (that’s right, yours truly didn’t even think I’d be married by 30 a decade ago…) As a child, I had a cat and a huge collection of cat cut-outs from magazines, books, videos. I even wrote a “cat handbook” in the third grade. One thing that hasn’t changed since I got the typewriter in first grade was how much I wrote. But my feline obsession was replaced with a canine one.

2. Oh my Gosh!

At 21, I still found it hard to say “oh my God” because I was religious. Fine, by that time I had dropped the celibacy and abstinence from alcohol but I still believed in the afterlife, went to church every Sunday and had problems speaking the Lord’s name in vain. That is no longer a sentiment although I wouldn’t say I have dropped my spiritual consciousness. However, I believed at 21 that I would go through life as a Christian, raise Christian kids and try to join heaven when it’s all over. Today, at 30, I’m neither Christian, not raising kids any particular way if I even have any and just hope I’ll peacefully fall asleep to whatever comes after life, even if that’s nothing. Doesn’t sound too bad, actually…

3. Alcohol, no thanks!

I didn’t drink until I was 20, and most of that decision wasn’t actually connected to faith. I am very grateful I waited with consuming an addictive substance until I was at least a little bit old enough to not just fall for the constant pleasure it seemed to be providing. All the other substances stayed taboo for me even when I drank. These days, one could almost say, I already quit drinking. Yes, alcohol provided some good times, in the last year it also provided quite some anxiety, though. Anxiety is one other thing I didn’t know at 21 but am quite familiar with today. I look forward to drinking much, much less in my thirties.

4. Why do gay people need “marriage”?

I wish I could blame my faith on my opposition to same-sex marriage when I was younger. At no point in my life I shared the belief that gay people could “pray the gay away” and that there was any sort of choice involved. I didn’t get why they needed to have “marriage” though. It didn’t matter to me that the Bible said “man and woman”, even at 21, I just likened the issue to the prominent opinion of “why do vegans have to have sausages, why don’t they just call them plips, or craycorn?” I thought that civil union was the same and didn’t get the craze. Until I one day asked myself a question: “Why shouldnt’t gay people be married?” I couldn’t answer it. And such was the end of my opposition…

5. Once a blonde, always a blonde

I had every hair color in the book. When I had pink hair, I was tempted to forsake the blonde I kept going back to. I didn’t even really know my real hair color for many years. Then, about two years ago, I wanted to literally go “back to the roots” - until they grew out and revealed the horror: my natural hair color was grey. Although I thought I would stick with the platinum blonde until my dying day at 21, I am typing this as a grey-haired lady that has some blonde highlights only to conceal the nightmare near my forehead. If I could, I’d be anything but blonde.

6. Progress is inevitable, right?

I studied politics and wanted to grow old doing “something with politics”. The dream of being a political correspondent was a ridiculous one, I would not have enjoyed that very much at all. The reason for that is possibly reality; 21-year-old me thought that the world would inevitably evolve into a better version of itself. One Brexit, dozens of populist heads of state and a plastic-polluted planet later I realize that I was simply naive; nobody cares about progress. People quite literally want to regress into what they call “easier times”. The reason for this is an epidemic of ignorance. People of this planet have never learned how not to be themselves. Until they learn to make decisions for everyone, not just themselves, politics won’t bring us better things. And I won’t be a political correspondent in my thirties.

7. “I’m too old for this shit!”

For the next point, I could go back to all the way when I was nine. I went on thrill rides that were both high and fast, screaming “yippie” when I felt my stomach tingle. At 30, my stomach still tingles - because my munchies are about to come back up. I am now terrified of heights and a thrill ride longer than 30 seconds will probably result in some vomit. I tried to beat this three times in the last year, each time going on those merry go rounds way up in the sky. Once with Sarah in Cambridge, under the influence. Another time, even more screaming was involved, with a guy on a second date whose hand I destroyed in the process just before Christmas although the ride featured beautiful views of Big Ben. And lastly, at Clapham Winterville, where I went way ahead of myself and went on the thrill ride version. Katie next to me was screaming “we are going to die” and I realized: "I’m too old for this shit!”

8. Wait, I am not invincible?

At 30, in London... finally!

Part of why deteriorating into old age is so horrible is the realization that the end is near. Well, maybe not around the corner, but when I look at how fast lines started appearing all over my face, I get the shivers. I cannot run up four stories of stairs anymore and when I see children on a playground I am amazed about how they seem to not know how to walk, but run, everywhere. Hence, I had to change my diet, start working out and drink way less just to be in as good of a shape as I was at 21, with no effort. Every bite of chocolate now has repercussions, and it requires mindfulness to stay awesome. At 21, I ate candy every day; today, I don’t even like candy.