I’m 30.
The thirties hold stigma for single ladies in Lebanon, the Arab world, Eastern world, or whatever entity we belong to in this piece of land. I’m 30 and I am still unsure about my identity. However, being a married lady or a wife or a mother do not look to be part of the definition.
I’m 30 and I still cannot make good coffee to serve my guests who are mostly adults, ergo coffee drinkers — except for Farah, who likes tea, but not Earl Grey, for Earl Grey is for the nouveau riche, she thinks. I’m 30 and I like Earl Grey tea. Have I become nouveau riche?
When I was in my late teens, I always thought I’d be married by 27 and have a kid by 28. I thought women who are in their thirties have lost most of their chances. I never thought about how my career would look like. I didn’t care. Little did I know that my career will be the only successful part of my life, and it is my only safety anchor. I will look the younger Nour in the eye and tell her, “I did not disappoint you; I over exceeded your expectations.”
My wise friend advised me two years ago not to get married before thirty. We are different after thirty, and what we want from life or from a partner will also be different. I’m 30 and I have just started to tap into how to communicate and connect more healthily.
I discovered by undergoing a behavior test at work that I have the ‘victim’ mindset. I’m 30 and I choose to stop being the victim. I will be accountable for my mistakes and triumphs. No hero is coming to save me. I’m 30 and I will be the hero of my own life.
I’m 30, just as Dina was when she left this world. I vow to try hard to face life in the same positivity and courage of Dina. I will live the years you did not live like you would, Dina.
Many of my older friends told me that their thirties were their best years. I’m 30 and I could be embarking on the best decade of my life. I hope that by the end of the decade I will have made at least one good cup of coffee.
