Fear of Thirty

“What’s your story?”    You know the one you are not sharing with anyone; perhaps you don’t even know it’s something to share.  Everyone has a story.  A story that affects what you do, and how you behave.    

This is part of my “story,” what helped shape me. 

I can remember being in elementary school and someone asking what I would want life to be like when I am sixty.  I matter-of-factly said I can’t imagine ever being that old.  I’m betting he just thought it was because I was a child and that sixty seemed old.  In reality, it was because I thought I would not live past thirty. 

As I revealed in my last blog, I grew up with my dad having died when I was three months old.  I want to discuss a way that his death seems to have affected me:  I grew up believing that I would not outlive the age my father lived.  He died a week before his thirtieth birthday.

The goals and dreams I had for myself always had an end date.  I truly thought that by February 15, 2012, I would be dead.  Let me clarify, I did not want to die by age thirty, I just felt that I would.  For me, this caused a great drive to succeed and accomplish things at a younger age.  I married a month before turning twenty-two.  I had my first child at twenty-four and my second at twenty-seven.  I strove to make a positive difference in the world at a young age (something I continue to strive for).

At one point, I remember discovering my older sister felt the same way.   I was flipping through channels one day and saw Oprah was on.   The whole episode was about children (now adults) who feared dying at the same age their parents died.  I couldn’t believe that others felt the same way.  I immediately called my sister and told her what I was watching.  I then admitted I had always felt I would not see thirty.  I was shocked to hear she felt the same way. 

When she turned thirty, she threw a huge party.  She had made it past the feared age!  Instead of relief, fear then settled in that my dad was the second child (and I’m told I very much take after him), and therefore my sister made it because she was the firstborn.  The rational side of me knew it was ridiculous but a part of me still feared that I would not see thirty and I would leave my children motherless.  I even talked to my husband about how he would need to find a good mother for them. 

The fear was a constant companion.  I have had many medical tests done fearing the worst and finding nothing. 

In 2011, I went ahead with the “plan” of having my kids three years apart (and we wanted three kids).  Once pregnant with my third, I realized that I would be pregnant when I turned thirty.   This took away some of my fear of turning thirty as I truly felt my baby would be okay.  I did not throw a huge party but quietly took in the day with my husband and kids.  I had made it!

I still worry about aches and pains more than many.  My husband would say I’m still a hypochondriac.  But, I don’t regret where my fear took me.  I wouldn’t trade where my choices led me.

 I frequently wonder what the story is of the kids I’m working with.  That’s part of my job-to help them find it. 

I’d love to hear your story!

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