I’m not where I thought I’d be.

I’m not where I thought I’d be, but I’m proud of where I am.

In reflecting on my accomplishments in the past 30 years, I feel that statement succinctly summarizes my life. When I was younger, I was determined to be married by 24, have three kids by 27, make six figures by 30, and have a million-dollar home soon thereafter. So many numbers, so little meaning. In fact, I did not know what any of this even meant. I just knew I wanted it, probably because society prescribed it.

When I was 24, I had baby fever and this scared my partner at the time. He insisted we were not ready to have kids because we were still kids. Over the next couple of years, the fever came down a bit, but at 26 I brought up kids again, and he insisted we were still not ready to have kids because we couldn’t afford to give them a good life yet. And I’m glad he talked some sense into me, because I cannot imagine having three–or any–kids right now.

When I was a child, I imagined growing up to be a lawyer, doctor, singer, choreographer, actor, news reporter, publisher, radio host… I have not gotten close to any of those things, and I don’t know how half of those would have amounted to a six-figure salary anyway, considering my mediocre or complete lack of talent and/ or skill in those areas. Despite that I’m not doing any of my “dream jobs”, I have realized my passion for working with kids, while not having kids. I care immensely about the students with whom I work, while working a job that may not be my “dream” but through which I’ve grown considerably.

Imagine if I were married. While part of me sometimes yearns for someone to come home to and to do everything and nothing with, I’m glad I didn’t get married at 24, because between 25 and now, I have learned an indescribable amount about the world, other people, and myself. I’ve closed doors on situations and relationships that no longer bring joy to my days and I’ve opened doors to opportunities and people that give me hope; I’ve met individuals who have made me a better person and individuals who have pushed me to reevaluate; I’ve shared delectable food and drink and delighted in uproarious laughter and incredible adventures. I have cried until I laughed; I have laughed until I cried. I have lost sight of who I am; I have paved paths for myself. I have fallen hard; I have pulled myself back up and out.

Imagine if I had a million-dollar home. That would be nice–I am ready for and willing to accept this anytime. But what I do have now is a condo unit in a 1960s building. It certainly is not what I ever imagined buying, but it truly feels like home. It’s something I accomplished completely on my own, prior to turning 30, and I am darn proud of that. And it’s in Seattle, a place I didn’t even know about until my twenties. All those years, I assumed I would stay in LA where my whole life had been, unaware that I could build a whole life outside of there too.

So it appears that I never thought about how I wanted to be, just about what I wanted to have. And I never imagined or “planned” for life after 30, probably because I thought that was it–wherever, with whomever, with whatever I landed at 30 years old would be for the rest of my life. But now I’m learning that it doesn’t matter so much that I have a glamorous job or luxurious home–it matters that I have passions and the capacity to tend to those passions; it matters that I am a good person who does her part in making a positive impact in the world; it matters that I am strong and independent. Moreover, I’m learning that life doesn’t stop at 30 and that where I am now isn’t for the rest of my life. I’m going to keep reflecting, adapting, and growing as the world around me evolves and I’m going to strive for more and better, always.

Turning 30 is just the beginning. While I’m not where I thought I’d be, I’m proud of where I am and who I’m becoming.