The Thirty Worries

Have you ever caught yourself watching “Intervention” on A & E while drinking? And you know you’re only one bottle away from that cheap motel room surrounded by friends and family? But that’s another post for another day.

What I will talk about however is the fact that all the thirty-somethings I know, including me, seem to be drowning in stress. Its an odd phenomena however because for the most part these people have no “real” problems. They are generally healthy attractive, educated, make good money, own homes and cars. Some are single, some are married. Some have children, others are child-free. Some are artists, some are stuffed shirts. Some are straight, some are gay. All are relatively well-adjusted, smart, motivated men and women who have the bulk of their upwardly mobile lives in front if them. But all that doesn’t stop us from being scared to death. I call this condition the Thirty Worries.

I will be the first to admit that my thirties have been the highlight of my life. In my teens I was awkward, insecure and socially maladjusted. In my twenties, I got a little more attractive and had an absolute blast but I was silly, drank too much, wasted a lot of time and made lots of bad choices. So here come the thirties, I got some good sense and I was suddenly comfortable in my own skin. After the death of my father I became fearless. My close encounter with mortality made me look at life differently. I live every day to the fullest. I refuse to be miserable or settle or let others define who I should be. I am strong, confident and people seem to like me OK. My hair is tempermental but natural, I’m good to people, I wear t-shirts with profanity on them, and I love old people. I’ve applied all the life lessons I’ve learned in my teens and twenties and for all intents and purposes I’m doing okay. But that doesn’t stop me from being constantly stressed out about where my life is going.

It’s a stress I haven’t quite experienced before. There’s something about your thirties that adds a certain gravitas to every decision. Everything becomes some kind of crossroad. Every date is a potential spouse, every job is a major career move, each period brings you closer to running out of eggs. There is an enormous amount of self-imposed pressure to figure it all out. Whatever “it” is. Forget the fact that you are currently doing just fine, you feel like you have to have the plan all together. You must know what you’ll be doing for the next 20 years. Otherwise, theres like a big black hole of life staring at you. And its terrifying. All of the possibilities and infinite choices that were exciting in our twenties turn into angst and doubt about what direction we’re going in. We tell ourselves that if we don’t have it all figured out by now, we’re in trouble, irresponsible and doomed to a life of wandering aimlessly.

Friends who have jobs now wonder is this really what they want to do, friends who don’t have jobs feel like abject losers, those of us who have our own businesses wonder if we should pursue a career path with a little more security ( and money) and those who want to start businesses struggle with the decision whether to leave the safety of their current positions for an uncertain future.

Its like all of a sudden we become too sensible. We feel as if its too late to make any major mistakes. The stakes are suddenly so high for everything. Do you want children? We are afraid if we don’t have kids we’ll regret it and afraid if we do have kids…we’ll regret it. Yet at some point ( and soon) a decision must be made.

In the meantime we try to drown out the cacophony in our heads with cocktails and prescription drugs and sex and Ritalin, gossip blogs and Golden Girls re-runs (ok, maybe that’s just me). And its odd because at any point if someone asked you what you were worried about, its doubtful you would be able to articulate exactly what was bothering you. On paper you look awesome. You have checked off all the items on the checklist that are supposed to guarantee a successful life. But somehow, strangely, you feel anything but successful. In fact, its like the war in Iraq, you no longer have any idea what success really means. Is it domestic bliss, moguldom, being independent and free? You no longer know, but you feel like you need to figure it out. And fast.

There was an article in the Washington Post a while ago about whether having too many choices actually contributed to stress and unhappiness in people’s lives. I’m starting to see that maybe there’s something to that. Because most of us can choose to do whatever we want, our failures or our shortcomings are all our own. There’s no blaming society, glass ceilings, discrimination, lack of opportunity—it’s just you and your decisions. When things go bad, it’s you and your decisions. When things go great, it’s you and your decisions.
And when you have no idea what the next ten years will look like ( and I mean NO idea)…. It all comes down to you and your decisions. The thirty worries.

I need a drink.