30? Me? Not even close.

Actually, I am. I’m very close. I’m closer to 30 than 20, I’m not on my parents’ medical aid anymore, I make my own doctors’ appointments, I get excited about socks and I get angry when my flatmates don’t rinse their dirty pap bakkies before putting it in the sink.

Wearing my Minunki Tee whilst talking about growing up.

I’m not in denial, I just tend to forget my age. Yes, I make my own doctor’s appointments, but only when my mom is too busy (and I feel guilty for making her do it). I get excited about socks, but have you seen socks lately? They are all types of colours and they have animals on them. I get angry at my flatmates for not washing, but my one flatmate is my brother and the other my husband. Yeah, I’m doing grown-up things, but they are not the way that the world has prescribed it to us. Behind every grown-up act of mine, a little child is pulling the strings.

Colourful miss-matched socks.

Me vs Expectations

Let’s be honest, the world has taught us that there is a certain order to things, and these things happen at a specific time frame in your life. It has told us to grow-up when you reach a certain age, and that to grow up means to be like this or like that. The thing is, I’ve never been good at being this or that.

Sure, it’s great to be independent. There’s something about that first time you drive on your own, or when you finally answer a ringing phone, that just makes you proud of how far you’ve come in life. Yet, there’s also something very special about growing up at your own pace and living life according to your own standards.

What the world expects of me, isn’t always what’s best for me. I enjoy cooking with my husband, more than I enjoy cooking for him. I found happiness in leaving steady jobs, rather than sticking to an occupation that makes me miserable. I like playing computer games past midnight, 30 Seconds is a lot more fun than a dinner party and running around in circles with my friends is the best exercise for my soul.

Alexa and Stompie posing for a photo in Dublin.

Dodging the Tannies’ Interrogation

I’ve turned a blind eye to questions about why my husband and I don’t live in our own home. “Yes, Tannie Susan, we’re a married couple who can’t afford a house. Shocker.” Also, if someone mentions babies to me one more time I might start chucking my morning coffee on them, because:
A – Kids scare me.
B – I find it weird that you are indirectly telling me and my husband to get down tonight, and
C – (And I can’t stretch this point enough) It’s just inconsiderate. You don’t know what goes on inside a person’s heart. You don’t know whether they have tried, or have perhaps already given up. Shame on you for thinking these questions are okay, just because of your expectations.

So, thank you World, but no thank you. You’ve given me a lot of space to grow and opportunities to embrace, but you’ve also placed obstacles in my path, tried to shove me in a box and phase out my individuality. I’m a grown up, not because I’m almost 30, but because I think for myself, know my heart, and might be a bit addicted to caffeine.