Turning 30 Changed Me for the Better
Since turning 30, something in me has shifted. I don’t know if it’s the quiet realization that no one is coming to chart the course for me—or just the soft urgency of time—but I feel more grounded. More awake. More me.
These days, I start my mornings slowly, and it’s been good for my soul. I make my coffee, open all the windows, and let the breeze fill the apartment. I’ve been trying to become more of a morning person, and while I’m not all the way there yet, I do take Charlie on a little walk first thing. It’s a gentle habit, but one I’m learning to treasure.
Lately, I’ve been loving the routine of getting ready—not in a rushed, slap-on-some-concealer way—but a real ritual. I’ve found some products that make my skin glowy and fresh, and I take my time. I listen to Diary of a CEO on Spotify while I get ready. The episodes are deep and sharp, and a few have stayed with me. One of them mentioned how fiction and playfulness can rewire your brain. That stuck.
So now I’m letting more play into my day. That might look like a hot girl walk with Hill on our lunch break, playing basketball in the neighborhood park after work, or browsing Goodwill just to see what treasures I can find. (Though let it be known, the Goodwill crowd is competitive—those girlies mean business.)
The funny thing is, my workdays have actually gotten more productive. I feel sharper. More confident. I’m leaning into my voice on social media, creating bolder art, and standing taller in the way I advocate for myself. Somewhere along the way, I stopped waiting for the life I thought I’d have by 30, and started building the one I actually want.
Was there a small ache this January, when I realized I wasn’t married or raising a family yet? Absolutely. It was quiet, but it was there.
Where I’m from, there’s an invisible timeline—a sort of unspoken rhythm that many Southern women grow up feeling. You marry young. You settle down. You raise your babies not far from where you were raised. You don’t talk much about wanting something different.
And when that chapter didn’t arrive right on cue for me, I felt like I’d missed a train everyone else had caught. For a while, I wondered if I should try to run and catch it. If I should hustle toward a life that would look good in Christmas cards.
But eventually, I just stopped waiting. Stopped holding my breath for the life I thought I was supposed to have by 30.
And that’s when something beautiful started to happen: I began building a life that looked like me.
I started showing up as a creator. As a woman who’s building a life worth living, in color.
I took a break this month from creating content—not because I failed, but because I needed to rest. And in that rest, I remembered why I started: to make things that feel like me. To play. To share. To try things on.
So if you're reading this and feeling a little stuck or restless, maybe the antidote is to play. Paint your room "Edgy Gold" just because it makes you smile. Start that blog again. Film your day, not for followers, but for you. Try on a version of yourself you haven’t met yet.
Because the moment you stop waiting and start playing?
That’s when the good stuff begins.