Rachel is a Jewish bisexual autistic woman (she/her) with ADHD in her twenties. She loves writing and can always be found with her nose in a book! Her plan for the future is to earn her Psy. D. in clinical psychology. This interested in psychology started as a way to help her understand people better and to figure out what it was about others I kept not getting. It is also something deeply linked with her self-advocacy. There is a gap in communication between the autistic community and providers, and she want to help bridge it and challenge others to see things from different perspectives.
View all postsTurning 30
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I’m turning 30 this month. Maybe even by the time this blog post is published. At a time like this, I could simply look back on the last decade of my life and take stock. But instead, I find myself looking forward. Looking forward and wondering why the path ahead doesn’t feel clearer.
A lot of people make your 20s out to be the time when you discover who you are. When you figure out what you want the trajectory of your life to be. Instead, it seems like all I’ve done these past 10 years is figure out what I don’t want my life to be. I suppose that’s just as valuable, but it doesn’t give me the sense of certainty I crave.
I had all these big expectations for myself when I was a kid. That I would be a writer. That I would have a career. That I would be married, even if I had no way to predict who it would be to. I imagined success for myself, both personal and professional, that has largely failed to materialize.
I think many of us have such grand expectations for adulthood when we’re younger. Expectations that rarely turn into reality. At least not the uncomplicated, lofty version of the success we dreamed. Or the success we achieve comes later than we imagined.
I know my 20s didn’t turn out anything like I expected, for better or worse.
I admit, I’m scared of finally being 30. Of having to look at myself and know I’m out of my 20s. Of having the knowledge that the world expects more out of me, while not being sure if I can meet those expectations.
As you age out of your 20s, you start to lose more and more support and opportunities. So many programs for exploring your career or for accessing extra resources start closing off to you once you hit mid-twenties. It becomes even more dire once you hit 30. The message feels clear: you should have figured this out by now. You shouldn’t have time to futz around trying new things and exploring your options. You shouldn’t need these opportunities for new experiences anymore. You should have this all in hand.
I’ve seen some people say the timeline for what’s considered “young adulthood” should be expanded to include your 30s. I agree, but wanting something to be true isn’t even half the battle. Right now, the common perception is that the grace you’re afforded in young adulthood comes to an end in your 30s. You’re supposed to be older now, wiser too. You shouldn’t need help.
The truth is, sometimes I feel like I need more help now than I did when I was in my early 20s. It’s probably not the truth. I probably needed a lot more help back then. But maybe I didn’t realize just how tough and confusing adulthood could get yet. I didn’t see how the path in front of me would stretch out. Plus, I still had so much more structure around me.
The transition from high school to college meant I was still living life very much on the rails in my early 20s.
I do blame the pandemic, at least in part, for what a mess my 20s feel like when I look back on them. But I don’t know if I can say there is any one reason my 20s weren’t anything like I’d hoped they’d be when I started them.
I just feel like every time I try to plan for the future, I end up disappointing myself. It’s a difficult cycle. As a kid, I had so many hopes and dreams for adulthood, and yet I look back on this last decade and see so many struggles. So many things left incomplete.
I remind myself my 20s haven’t been all bad, though. It’s easy to look back and see all the ways we didn’t measure up to our own hopes and expectations, but that’s never the whole story. I did things I would have never dreamed of at the start of my 20s. I’ve traveled all over the world! I’ve been paid for my writing and had it published in multiple places. It’s mostly non-fiction instead of fiction like I expected, but life has that way of surprising you. My work in autism advocacy is also something I would have never predicted, but it may be one of the things I’m most proud of. And I’m finally in grad school, even if it’s later than I would have originally hoped.
I try to shake myself of the idea that even when I accomplish things, I’m accomplishing them too late. We all move at our own pace. I’m just moving at mine.
It can put me at war with myself. I’m used to believing in society’s expectations of where I should be. And isn’t it better for me to have higher expectations of myself? To want more? To be ambitious? But I can want more for myself without hating where I am.
The truth is, we are rarely allowed to move at the speed right for us. I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s reached 30 feeling like I’m not where I’m supposed to be. That my efforts haven’t been sufficient, or that my progress has been too slow.
More than anything, this fear of turning 30 is fear of time passing me by. It’s the fear that the next thing I know, I’ll wake up and I’ll be 40. And I still won’t be happy where I am. It’s the fear that life only ever seems to go by faster and faster.
One day I will turn 40. And I have no idea what that will be like. I’m almost scared to have expectations of myself at 40. I’m scared of setting myself up for more disappointment. Yet I also can’t help but still have that hope that when I’m 40, I’ll have my life figured out. Because if I don’t have that at 40, what will it mean for my future? What will it mean for me when I’m 50?