Life After 30

A Soft Crash Landing with a Side of Back Pain

In my twenties, I thought I’d have it all figured out by 30.

Stable career. Emotional clarity. A signature scent.
A skincare routine that actually works.
Maybe even a balcony garden and a decent relationship with sleep.

Now that I’m here, though?

My skincare routine is SPF and vibes.
I have three open tabs on therapy.
And I can’t sit for more than 15 minutes without my lower back filing a complaint.

No one warned me about this version of adulthood
where dreams change, energy fades, and your calendar becomes a battlefield between social obligation and survival.

Everyone is moving on, and I’m just buffering.

Some days it feels like everyone around me is sprinting forward.

Buying houses. Starting families. Launching things. Planning destination weddings in places I can’t even spell.

Meanwhile, I’m in bed at 9:30 PM, watching episode 12 of a K-drama, trying to decide if I should finally go to therapy or just hydrate aggressively and hope for the best.

Spoiler: You should go to therapy.
Especially if you’ve lived through a global pandemic and are now over 30.

Make it a group project. Make it mandatory.
Honestly, throw it in with your taxes and let’s be done with it.

Dreams in my 20s: Big, bold, cinematic.

Dreams in my 30s: Peace. Fewer notifications. A good chair.

In my 20s, I believed in arrival.
That one day, I’d arrive at this magical, complete version of myself who had everything sorted.

She’d be productive but soft. Ambitious but glowing.
She’d meal prep, journal, hit inbox zero, and emotionally regulate, all before 8 AM.

Now? I just want a slow morning and a decent pillow.

My dreams have changed.

I don’t want to be impressive anymore.
I want to be okay. Present. Slightly less tired.
Maybe own an air purifier and call it a win.

Even Gen Z seems more emotionally prepared than I am.

They’re setting boundaries. Drinking water. Saying “that’s not in my bandwidth.”
Meanwhile, I just found out that my burnout wasn’t a personality trait.

Where were these resources when we were crying at our unpaid internships, eating instant noodles, and thinking coffee was self-care?

I find peace in Korean dramas now.

Not the overly tragic ones, just the soft ones.
Where people heal through small acts.
Where love takes its time.
Where silence is allowed.
Where no one yells “MAKE SOME NOISE!!” for no reason.

Honestly, every time I hear that phrase, even on TV, my soul whispers, Why are we yelling.

I’m overstimulated. I’ve had enough noise.
Give me silence, subtitles, and someone cooking noodles in emotional tension.

Post-pandemic me is tired in places I can’t describe.

I forget what life felt like before 2020.
Before anxiety had a daily parking spot in my chest.
Before multivitamins became a personality.
Before a bad pillow could ruin an entire Tuesday.

Is there a way to “13 Going on 30” backwards?
Can we “30 Going on 13” for a while?
Just a little chaos and cartilage, please?

So here’s what I’ve learned (kind of):

Life after 30 isn’t tragic. It’s just heavier.
More real. More honest. More “Do I really want to go out?”

And the truth is, I don’t have it all figured out.

But I’m learning how to listen to myself.
To sit with the discomfort.
To redefine success as softness.
To choose slowness without guilt.

To rest.

To feel more and explain less.

To forgive the version of me who thought she had to have it all together by now.

Because honestly? You start accepting your past.
The mistakes. The delays. The blind optimism.
You stop obsessing over who you should’ve been.
And you start caring more about protecting your peace.

Mental peace is more important than people pleasing.
Boundaries overburnout.

And yes, help is allowed.
Therapy is no longer a last resort.
It’s a survival tool.

Also, quick shoutout to my metabolism:
Thank you for your service in my twenties.
You will be missed.
Muscle mass? Not sure where you went, but please text back.

So if you’re 30+, confused, tired, and wondering if this is it
Hi. Me too.

You’re not behind.
You’re just becoming someone new.
Someone a little slower, a little wiser, a little more grounded.

Someone who brings snacks, avoids noise, stretches before bed, and doesn’t go anywhere without a neck pillow.

You’re doing great.
Even if you’re doing it in compression socks.