Today, I’m turning thirty. Since we use a base ten numbering system, that feels significant to people. It isn’t really, but it feels that way. I thought what might be interesting, though, is looking at a decade ago - 2012, turning twenty, and the difference between then and now.
I was still writing this blog back then. I went back and checked. I don’t think I’d been doing it for that long, though. It was my last year at university, studying a Bachelor of Music at the Kingswood campus of Western Sydney Uni. I was still living at home, and working at a local Italian restaurant called Luigi’s. Next year I would start up a job leading camps and Duke of Edinburgh expeditions, but I didn’t know I’d gotten the job until December. I’m not sure if I’d even done the interview at this point. I was a regular at the evening church that I’d grown up in at Campbelltown, often on the music team, or sound and tech. From memory, I was also head over heels for someone - but that was true of me most of the time then. (It didn’t work out, dear reader, but in a fun new way. That wasn’t until next year, though. Maybe even early 2014? Not sure, time is wibbly-wobbly.)
Back then, I was churning out music at the rate of knots. There was a couple of times I’d do songwriting challenges, to test myself, and stretch the brain a bit, so to speak. Maybe I should do that sort of thing again. It’s harder when you don’t have the same amount of time that you used to. I was driving around in an old metallic green Volvo that my grandpa had bought and fixed up - we used to call it the tank. I had so many people that I was connecting to at uni - both through my course, and also through the Christian group there - and I was really having the time of my life. I loved uni so much. But that was all wrapping up, and a new season was starting. A season of work.
I think since uni finished, there’s been - maybe two? - people from there who I’ve connected with on some regular or repeated level at some point. But honestly, that’s fairly standard of most of the different seasons of life for me. I don’t really stay connected to people that well. I care about them a lot, and miss them when they’re gone - but tend to only look at photos on Facebook they put up, wish people happy birthday now and then, bump into someone once in a blue moon. I’m not good at staying connected to people, or taking initiative with that. It’s something I want to get better at, particularly because I know one-on-one connection is something that I really crave and that energises and rejuvenates me.
But work has probably changed things in a bigger way for me. Before then, my life revolved around learning, in various ways. Work had started to come along, but it was ancillary, a bit on the side. Suddenly, it became the focus, that everything else warped around, that gobbled up most of my time. And it has repeatedly, and routinely, burnt me out. There’s only one job since then which I’ve lasted in for more than two years; and I was only doing that job for one day a week. I haven’t been fired from a job (yet, and very surprisingly with a couple of them), but many jobs I’ve had to leave because of burn out. And that’s not really something that I’ve ever solved. I’ve never found a job that hasn’t drained in me in one way or another.
I think the closest I found to that was actually the job that I would end up doing next year - leading camps, and Duke of Ed trips. I was regularly outside and active, interacting with small groups in intentional ways, building relationships and learning new skills, meeting great people and having a lot of fun.
Unfortunately, the flip side to it was that you’re doing camps. You’re doing multi-day trips. So you’re regularly away from home for multiple days and nights in a row, in ways that aren’t consistent. So I wasn’t really able to commit to anything regular, and I had very little time outside of work. Particularly for someone who really enjoys creative projects and such, that was really difficult, and didn’t end up being sustainable.
I don’t know if there’s a happy medium somewhere, maybe there is. You would hope so.
Thirty is a strange milestone. It feels very adult. Twenty you’re kinda just starting out, just getting into things. But now, you’ve been doing things a while, you should be getting the hang of things, settling into a rhythm, something like that. Of course, life is always a bit more complicated - and being neurodivergent, the standard narrative never fits particularly well.
I feel like there are some pretty amazing things that I’ve been able to accomplish and do in the time that I’ve had so far, for sure. I’ve written and created a lot, connected to a bunch of people, done talks and plays and musicals and more; had moments of recognition now and then. But it would be easy for me to see the flip side to that as well - there are so many projects left unfinished, so many songs and stories that haven’t been heard or shared with others, so many ideas that haven’t seen the light of day. I’m learning, though, slowly, that we can only do so much with the time that we have. There will always be more we want to fit in life than we are able to. And even if there are times where much of what we do feels wasted, or worthless - perhaps they are bringing value to others. Or perhaps that is a sign to change what you are doing. I’m still learning, and there are many answers I don’t have.
Over this year, there’s been a lot of up and down. Particularly down. I’ve had many moments and seasons of depression and hopelessness, where I’ve seen little point to living. I am grateful that I am not there now; that I am able to get through the days with a little more energy and focus. Meds probably helps; but people have also been a big help, as is often the case. I have many beautiful and amazing people around me that give me reasons to keep living, and looking forward to another day, to the future. Even in the last few weeks, I’ve felt myself getting better. And I’m grateful for all that the people around me give. I seem to say the same thing year after year, but it continues being true - I am here largely because of the people around me, and the hope, joy, and love they bring. So to each and every one of you, thank you. You have helped me to thirty. You have helped me to here, and now; you have given me life.
