The days of being a 20 something have come and gone. As of last Tuesday, I am now in my dirty thirties.
About 3 years ago now, I started picturing what my life would be like when I started my new decade. I would be successful in my career and a leader on the national scene. I would be respected internationally in my field for my work for what I’ve helped produce. My list of athletic achievements would still be growing and my name would be one that is thrown around regularly when talking about threats for podiums internationally. I’d be closer to legendary status. I would be happily dating and moving towards cohabitation with the love of my life.
I’ve managed to be dead on with my career and athletics yet dead wrong with my personal life. I woke up on Tuesday: 30 and fabulous?
Most people envy my lifestyle, my success, my confidence and my attitude in life. I appreciate that. The general agreement would be that I am 30 and fabulous. That’s the vibe I give off. That’s the perception I hope to transmit to the world. But like many people in this world, I’ve mastered the art of faking it.
It’s amazing how one missing puzzle piece can impact your state of mind. I hate myself a little bit for saying this however it is sad that I don’t have a man in my life. I have some of the most amazing friends in the world, really I do, but I’m missing that person you share life with, that person who calms you. It would just be nice to have someone to share all this success with and come home to.
I realize this is such a 1st World Problem but it’s one that lingers in me no matter how much bad stuff is happening in the world. Some nights, the loneliness is palpable.