The Wistfulness of Your 30s
Wistfulness [noun]: a feeling of sadness because you are thinking about something that is impossible or in the past.
No one prepares you for the grief you feel in your 30s. Time suddenly feels like it sped up — you’re grieving the life you thought you’d have by now, you’re seeing your parents get older, you and your loved ones are all experiencing loss in some capacity, you’re outgrowing relationships, and you’re constantly thinking of your own mortality; wanting to live life to the fullest, but “the fullest” costs money so you’re stuck working to afford a life you have no time to live.
As a 33-year-old, I fully understand where she’s coming from.
A general melancholy often surrounds me. My life isn’t bad at all, objectively speaking. But I find myself caught between a nostalgic past and a adulthood that feels different from what I imagined.
Looking at childhood photos makes me sad. I’ve fallen into watching endless nostalgia videos on social media showcasing the toys, TV shows, and life of my childhood. It creates an ache in my gut, but I can’t resist. It’s like I’m living vicariously through my past self.
It feels like just a few years ago I turned 22. Now I’m 33.
Despite recognising this fleeting nature of time, I don’t make the effort to live more. I don’t take up new hobbies, travel, or focus on my health. Instead, I continue in the same old patterns. And though I know I’ll regret this when I turn 50 (which will come around sooner than I think), I can’t seem to break the cycle.
I’ve read that many people report their 30s as their happiest decade. I hope that proves true. Despite the melancholic tone of this post, I don’t consider myself badly off. I’m not chronically depressed, financially struggling, or in poor health.
But I just feel off. The sun doesn’t shine as brightly as it once did. Few things truly excite me anymore. Life simply feels plain. I’ve been waiting for years for it to feel like it used to. But it hasn’t. And I don’t think it will.
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