On turning 30 and mistaking grief for exhaustion | #14
Landing back in London after two incredible experiences and facing the fear of ageing
Hey friends, I’ve just had an incredible two weeks — five days at a camping festival and a week in East Coast of Muricah. I went to Buddhafield, an alcohol and drug-free festival celebrating community and connection with land. It was filled with awesome workshops, music, dance and wonderful people.
In the US, I hung out with my sister’s family in NJ, visited an art colony in Connecticut, went to Sleep No More (a phenomenal immersive theatre production) in NYC, visited Storm King and spent four days in upstate New York with the writing collective I was helping build. I also saw Van Gogh’s exhibition at The MET followed by a last min Central Park picnic before my flight.
The best part of this trip was not only being with friends and family, but giving myself and them permission to love and celebrate me!
Turning 30
I am turning 30 this Saturday and I am scared. I feel like I should have my life sorted out by now. I should have a life partner, I should know about whether I want kids or not and I should have a stable career trajectory.
I don’t have a life partner, I don’t know about kids and I have just quit the best job I’ve ever had.
I remember similar feelings of denying my ageing on the cusp of turning 20. I’d just finished my solo gallivanting of Europe after studying abroad in France. I remember people telling me how mature I was for a 19 year-old and my ego clung so dearly to that. I was in Kuala Lumpur with my then-boyfriend who wanted to book us a fancy meal. I didn’t want to celebrate because I didn’t want it to happen. Instead, I laid in our hotel room bed denying the passage of time. And that is how I turned 20!
It is funny to think how real my fear of turning 20 was and to observe how a similar pattern is happening a decade later, as I turn 30.
The truth is the ability to age is a beautiful thing and such a privilege. Not everyone gets to have time as an alive human being on this earth and to have the opportunity to experience things — whether they are good or bad.
As I write this, I am willing myself to step towards the fear, to look it in the eye and see all the things I am projecting onto being 30. All the parts of me that are still being figured out, all the parts I try to deny, all the parts I can’t yet accept and I am willing myself to try love every bit of it.
While I have so much fear turning 30, I also have so much gratitude for the courage I have been having over the past two years as I lean into my truth. I am excited that I have transitioned out of my full-time job at Foster, to give myself space to do full-time drawing and painting from September. I haven’t decided how long I will give myself but I know that it is the right thing for me.
Rather than wishing I had done things differently when I was young and had the capability, I want to imagine an older version of me looking back and seeing that I had done the courageous things I wished to do!
Maybe this can inspire you too.
Mistaking grief for exhaustion
My friend had a 30th birthday dinner the Sunday Buddhafield ended. I planned and successfully made it back to London by late noon, intending to celebrate her that night. I gave myself enough time to get home, have a long nap and get ready for the party.
As time inched towards 6.30pm, the latest I could stretch my departure to, I felt resistance in my body. Something was holding me back, pleading me not to go.
Having had my fair share of mental health struggles, last minute changes in mood and motivation is something I have become acquainted with. Excitement to do something when it gets scheduled into the diary and then drastic last minute mood shifts making me unwilling to go. I always mentally whip myself for this, the self-hate is real in these moments.
Sometimes I’d be great at pushing through the sluggishness, fighting the emotions with robotic mechanism and making myself go. Other times I’d allow myself to be a bad friend and make the last minute cancellation. See, there is even judgement in that sentence!
It is hard to say whether pushing through or cancelling is the right thing because sometimes I’d be annoyed I pushed through and other times I’d be glad I had. Understanding this part of me is still a work in progress.
This time, I attempted to fight the emotions. I tried hard to get up, get ready and go but I just could not. I was deeply annoyed at myself. This was a friend’s 30th birthday after all! Everyone says 30 is a big one and I wanted to be there for her. I wanted her to know I valued her and wanted to celebrate her.
I sent a last minute apology while experiencing shame and guilt and plonked back under the covers of my bed. I was exhausted, I thought to myself.
The next day, while I was painting at the art studio, I experienced even deeper shame, guilt and self-hate. It was visceral, I felt it squeeze my heart, I felt it causing nausea, I felt it twist and wrench my body with judgement, hate, and feelings of not being enough. I told myself I was a bad friend, I was incapable of being there for others, I didn’t know how to parse an important moment from an unimportant one. The verbal abuse continued for the whole day.
It wasn’t until another writer shared that they’d realise their extreme exhaustion was a symptom of grief did it click for me. I couldn’t make it to her birthday party because I was not ready to transition out of the Buddhafield container and back into life in London. I was in the process of grieving.
The Buddhafield festival container impacted me deeply. Five days of camping in a field under a sky full of stars, deepening friendships with those I came with, singing by campfires into the depths of the night, dancing with new friends, no phone, loose agenda, fully trusting serendipity and emergence. Leaving emails, productivity and my optimising mind, I was free to be my authentic self there. I was grieving the end of being this way. I thought that this freedom and way of being ended with the festival. And what I thought of as exhaustion was actually sadness and grief. I feared not being able to integrate those into my daily life. And I didn’t want to face normal life yet. As a result, I found it hard to go back to seeing friends in London.
This experience taught me that shifts to our experiences can cause growth pains and it is important to give ourselves time to feel sad about something ending, and space to land back into normal lives.
That is all from me this week.
Love,
Caryn
I notice older people (including my Grandma) tend to be proud of their age. She is 85.
You are soon to be 30. You are more youthful than 26 year olds I worked with at Amazon. Whatever is feeding your soul- it’s working.
I loved hearing about your experiences. You had a seriously cool month. No 🧢. Happy be-earlied birthday!
Nice piece. 50 has been the easiest naught birthday for me so far. But it’s we who apply meaning to naught birthdays. The universe is benign. Just keep moving forward till it stops. Loved the physical metaphors of how the grief affected your body. I might try that in today’s pages as I deal with last night’s downward spiral. Happy birthday!