Chapter 1: The Reality of Turning 30

It's official: I’ve hit the big 3-0, and I find myself single. Where’s my official apology letter for not meeting the societal standards?

On my 30th birthday, I realized my life isn’t what I envisioned. In my younger days, I pictured myself traveling the world, settling down with a loving partner, having eight kids, and living a writer's life reminiscent of Carrie Bradshaw. Maybe I’d even solve crimes along the way, but let’s not get carried away.

For years, I held onto the fantasy of being "thirty, flirty, and thriving." However, reality paints a different picture.

My Experience at 30:

At this age, I’m stuck in a monotonous social work job so uninspiring that I often feel like a character in the Matrix, where the test is to see how long it takes for me to lose my sanity. My travel experiences have been limited to navigating urban landscapes across the U.S. to indulge in my growing food cravings, rather than exploring new cultures. As for children, I’ve nearly taken that step but remain childless. And as for dating? I have a plethora of stories—enough to keep the L.A. Times busy for a while.

When I encounter someone who has traveled extensively, they share enchanting tales, like their awe-inspiring visit to the Sistine Chapel. My retort? “I might not have the best travel stories, but I can offer a humorous date experience!”

On the topic of romantic escapades, if those were valued as success metrics akin to career achievements, I might be considered a millionaire in that department—just a little joke, Mom!

I often ponder whether turning 30 has become this arbitrary deadline for achieving life milestones, perhaps imposed by Latin mothers.

The 30 Panic

As you approach 30, it feels like everyone around you—family, friends, media, even the barista at Starbucks—reminds you that it’s time to settle down and start a family to prove your worth. They inundate you with questions like:

• Are you in a serious relationship?
• Have you graduated from college?
• What’s your career status?
• When are you getting married?
• When will you have kids? And more kids?

They want me to showcase my newborn as if I’m Rafiki presenting Simba in The Lion King, shouting, “Behold what I’ve created!”

The underlying message is clear: you must be anchored in one place, with one partner, continuously expanding your lineage, or you’re seen as lacking.

At 30, the pressure mounts: the biological clock ticks, the pool of potential partners shrinks, and it feels as though the time to pick out a gravestone approaches. I half-expect to transform into an ogre by nightfall, much like Princess Fiona, with everyone fleeing in horror.

The Who Cares Factor

Here’s the truth: few people truly understand me. They don't know my past, my struggles, or my thought processes. They impose their standards of normalcy onto me.

As I reflect on my childhood through writing, I see my life as a journey without a predetermined path—colorful and filled with trauma, poor decisions, and hardships like domestic violence, addiction, and loss. These experiences have shaped me into someone vastly different from who I was a decade ago, guiding me to discover what I genuinely want.

Moreover, I’m not alone in this feeling. A growing number of women are choosing to delay motherhood or defy traditional expectations altogether. Recent articles, including one in the New York Times, explore why many women are prioritizing their own needs over the societal norms of motherhood. Fertility rates are declining, and marriage is becoming less common.

The Honesty

If I were to be completely candid, I’d admit that I’ve never had a strong desire to settle down in a suburban family life. This notion has often served as a comforting illusion rather than a true aspiration. It’s more about avoiding a lonely future—who will take care of me when I’m old?

While I do yearn for a partner to share adventures with, the idea of wedding bells and baby showers doesn’t excite me. My passion lies in helping those who have no one else to turn to. Working with incarcerated women, grappling with their traumas, has profoundly humbled me. It’s ignited a desire to support others who lack support.

If I’m to travel, I’d prefer it to be to teach English to children in Peru. If I visit New York, I want it to be to offer counseling services. Each article I write should aim to alleviate someone’s suffering or champion a cause. If I choose to nurture children, I’d rather it be through fostering those in need.

Perhaps in the future, the idea of marriage and settling down will appeal to me, but right now, my focus is on living life fully and dedicating my time to helping others in any way I can.

At 30, I am alive, healthy, and that’s what truly matters. This next chapter is mine to write, and I owe no one an explanation.