I wanna be thirty, flirty and thriving

In my late teens and early twenties, I felt like the question "where do you picture yourself in (insert number ) years?" constantly popped up on some application or ice-breaker or whatever. I can't even recall what the answer may have been. I do, however, remember thinking to myself, gee, I wonder if in (insert number) of years I'll remember what I wrote down! I know without doubt my answers involved writing. Certainly travel. Possibly marriage. That's it. That's all.

Now that a number of years have passed without hearing that question, and with the launching of another decade in my life, I find myself a little surprised by where I am (insert number ) of years later. Finally, it has dawned on me that while I had an idea in mind, I never truly had a plan. Maybe it was because I was so focused on finishing journalism school already or dealing with the depression that loved to visit me every-other-year, but I never visualized my future beyond a single thing: writing. Becoming a professional writer was the only thing I knew I absolutely needed to get from life.

I don't know what else I imagined, but this life I live now was never it. I never pictured myself anywhere but in an apartment with some random for a roommate. I never imagined not working two or three jobs and struggling to get by. I never envisioned that I'd marry someone I didn't go to high school with ... and now that I think about that it's so bizarre and unlike me to have ever thought that in the first place. I hated those vile creatures we call cats, so having one was out of the question. And the list of things I never dreamed of goes on and on: owning a reliable car, liking coffee, waking up at 6 am on the weekend, growing my hair long, gaining 25 pounds and then actually enlisting in Weight Watchers to lose them, finding out that yoga is far from boring, watching dog training DVDs with a glass of wine on a Friday night ... you get the picture.

And not that my life is so phenomenal now or was ever some great tragedy. That isn't the point. The point is that I am pleasantly surprised to find myself where I am today. The point is that after trying find my feet for so many years, then figuring out how to walk on them, I feel thankful for where I am now. (Remind me of that on days I fret that I've become boring and start craving a good does of instability.) I fully embrace that great Stones' chorus "you can't always get what you want ... but if you try sometime, you just might find you get what you need."

In the last year of my twenties, I learned a lot about myself. I know it sounds trite, but I honestly felt the shift. First of all, I tried to run the marathon that topped my list of things to do before I die. Guess what? Not. Interested. Mark it as incomplete - gasp! I used to worry too much about whether or not people liked me, and now I find myself more concerned with whether I am kind, reliable, impeccable with my word and a good friend. The overwhelming urge to compete with everyone has dissipated, well, other than when I'm on my bike. I suddenly quit worrying so much about what I wanted to do with my life and just started embracing the possibility - and doors are opening in unexpected places. I stopped being willing to accept just anything from life and started valuing myself enough to take what feels true to who I am. Where to put my limited time and energy has become more clear.

Oh sure, then there are the ugly things - fine wrinkles, poor night vision and unwanted hair - that "suddenly appeared" just like the unexpected contentedness.