Improving With Age

I’m 30 now. I’ll save the cliche comments about how old I feel. Age is tricky. If you’re 40 you think I’m young. If you’re 20 you wonder what I’ve accomplished in my extensive life experience.

I will admit I’ve always just assumed I would improve with age. I still do. More successful. More kind. More patient. More selfless. After all, experience is a precursor for improvement. It seems like life experience should breed better people. Improved people.

I say all that because at 30, it feels like I’ve taken a step back. In many ways I feel less confident, less caring, less patient than I was in the past. At best it feels like I’m stagnant.

This year in particular has been difficult. Not difficult in the grand scheme of things. Many (if not most) people have a tougher life than me. I’ve been very fortunate in many ways. This year I’ve allowed myself to be riddled with fear, worry, and anxiety.

I’ve always dealt with that some, but this year is a different beast. I won’t go into all the details, mainly because I don’t understand them myself. But I know my assumptions of naturally improving with age have taken a hit.

That all seems pretty depressing but to me it’s actually encouraging. Knowing that I have space to fail, regress, and doubt gives me hope there’s plenty of room to grow, which starts tomorrow.

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