Jordan O'Connor
October 20th, 2005

Something strange happened when I turned 30, something I couldn’t talk about at the time. I realized, unequivocally, that I was a failure. All that I thought I would be wasn’t true. I had comforted myself with the understanding that one day I would be something, achieve something, make right by and mend something; be in some way significant.  But when I turned 30 the fallacy was revealed; just another chump, just a boring, brain dead adult. The only way out seemed to be…have kids or kill myself.  So here it is, 32 (couldn’t talk about it for two years) and I realize…I have failed.

When I was a child and I felt powerless I told myself one day I would be older. Being “older” was to be empowered. Thus, for a great many years I borrowed against my future in order to stay sane, in order—in many cases—to hold on.  I got lost in the reasoning of adults. Things seemed so obviously unfair and wrong, but still they carried on. I told myself that I would never forget the feelings of injustice and of shame, which I felt. But here I am and I have no more answers now then I did those—now—many years ago.

I write this not to purport an answer, but rather, to hear others talk. Believe it or not, this is call for submissions—a call to arms.  What was it, and is it, to turn 30?  Tell me…there is comfort in numbers.