So you're 30? Get over it.

I'm going to post about this topic just one time and then, having said my peace, try to bite my tongue ever after...

For several years now, my friends have been reaching and passing the great life landmark of turning 30 years old. During the next year, many more of my friends will turn 30.

I'm dreading their birthdays.

So far it has mostly been my experience that people approaching this milestone freak out. They stress. They whine.... a lot. Apparently if you wake up on February 1st and it's your birthday and you are now 30, you've transform into a gray-haired, hobble-stepped person with wrinkles. In other words, you suddenly and magically got really old.

At the very least, can we please stop with the excessive hyperbole about how "old" you feel when you turn 30?

(I'd really like it if you would refrain from whining, too.)

In the first place -- and I know this is weird, but just to get it off my chest -- me, personally? Not so much with the worrying about the big 3-0. I am actually very, very excited about the end of my twenties. I look forward to being a comfortably adult age and shedding the last obnoxious vestiges of my (perceived) youth. In some ways, I've always been a lot older than my age anyway. I like to think that when I hit 30, the numerals attached to my lifespan will indicate the grown-up-ed-ness I've long felt. (Yes, I know I have a propensity for pranks and a love of technology, both of which make me seem pretty youthful, but I assure you there's a very old soul inside this rambunctious exterior.)

Now here's the other thing: I don't think you should be worried about turning 30, either. Perhaps you could do me a favor and try to see this landmark from a different angle. Will you consider something for a moment?

You can't stay in your twenties forever, so there's only one alternative to turning 30...

Death.

Don't laugh. I'm being serious. Dead serious. And this is the real reason it bothers me so very, very much when people complain about turning 30: Not everyone gets to turn 30.

Just think about that for a moment. Please think about it.

This is the moment in the post where I planned to throw a bunch of statistics at you (want to talk about Africa, anyone?) and then some true, tragic tales of young death. But as I sit here typing, I don't think either of those options are the best course. Instead I'll just use a bit of simple reasoning...


We're all going to die at some point. If you're reading this, how blessed are you, you are still alive. You have made it to your current age. Is your body the springy, flexible figure of youth? Or have you started to stoop and ache with age? Do you have a few gray hairs, or maybe a whole head of them?

Who cares? You're alive.

Too many people die young. Childhood cancer. Car accidents. Freak accidents. Abuse. Disease. Stupidity. We're fairly blessed in the United States to have a long life expectancy and low rates of childhood mortality, but we're not immune to loss. That we -- you and me -- are the ones who have made it this far is a blessing.

Because you could be dead.

So yes, while I have my own freakish reasons to be genuinely excited about turning 30, I also feel there is a Universal Reason to embrace the transformation into a triple-decade winner: YOU ARE ALIVE. And with time to spare, perhaps? You still have time to chase your dreams and enjoy life's pleasures and hug your loved ones.

This is why it irks me to hear people complain about turning 30. Every time the muttering and whining slips out of their mouths -- even when it's people who I deeply, truly love -- I want to shout: YOU SHOULD FEEL BLESSED TO BE ALIVE. Too many people do not get the opportunity. There are people younger than you or me who, right this very moment, are at the end of their lives, and they would give anything if they could live long enough to turn 30. Hell, they'd be happy for one more month or week or even just one more day. But they don't have that much time left.

Meanwhile, you made it to 30...

(Or to forty, or fifty, or whatever age you've reached and you want to complain about being -- because really this post goes beyond the unhappy middle-years folks. It's something I wish we would all remember and take to heart...)

You are alive. You are blessed.

Every breath you take, every morning you get to wake up and have yet another day on this earth, you are blessed. I know life is not always easy or pretty or fun, but the alternative is death, and there are young people who lay dying who would gladly trade places with you and turn 30, and they wouldn't care at all. They just want one. more. day. How many days you have! How fortunate you are!

So please, my dearly beloved friends, stop complaining. Stop freaking out. Count your blessings, eat your cake, and kiss the people you love. Because you still can.

"To be alive is to be blessed, no matter your age."


End rant.




P.S. Okay, I couldn't help myself -- I looked up a lot of statistics as I prepared this blog post and I have to share at least one: In 2012, the CIA's World Factbook listed the average life expectancy in Swaziland (southern Africa, population 1.2 million) was 32 years. In other words, the majority of people in that country are dead by age 32. How many of them don't even make it to 30?