I turned 30 today.

30 years old. Wiser is questionable.

I’ve had a lot of emotions about this day for a while now. Most of them ended with me crying. In my own eyes, I failed. No kids. Not married—I haven’t even been on a date since 2018. Still living with my parents. Not a director. Not even a manager. Still wearing braces. Not in anyone’s idea of ideal shape. I haven’t traveled to the places I dream of. I haven’t touched the hobbies I love in over a year.

Yeah... I failed.

I grew up thinking it would all fall into place by now. I imagined I'd have three or four kids by 30. That I’d find a strong Christian man—handsome, grounded, not obsessed with video games or glued to a screen. We’d have a cute, medium-sized house that we’d slowly turn into a home. Dinners around the kitchen table. Holidays hosted in the dining room. Trips back to Sweden. Laughter echoing through rooms filled with family. My parents playing with their grandkids. Spawn #2 building Legos with them. Spawn Prime coloring or galloping horses across the floor.

It was a beautiful dream.

One that didn’t quite happen.

There was no high school sweetheart. When I moved back to Sweden at 18, dating didn’t really happen. I struggled to find a church, and the one I did find was filled with married couples and a few single girls like me. But in that season, I found real friendship. I learned a lot. I also met an amazing friend in university, and even now we still talk and meet up every few years.

Eventually, I entered into a relationship that lasted three years. Looking back, I can see it wasn’t healthy. It pulled me away from who I was—and away from my faith. In so many ways that relationship dystroyed me. Slowly tearing me down bit by bit until I didn't know who I was towards the end. I remember one quiet moment, praying for the strength to leave. And thankfully, that prayer was answered. It hurt for a long time afterward. I grieved not just the relationship, but the version of myself I lost in it.

Soon after, I lost my job when the company shut down my division. I flew home for Christmas, needing to breathe, to find solid ground again—and then COVID hit. I found a new job, bounced around for a bit, and eventually landed where I am now in March of 2022. Then, somehow, three years passed, and here we are today. Same job, still living at home.

But here’s the surprising part: despite all the heaviness, I feel hopeful.

I smiled when people said happy birthday today. I meant it when I said thank you. They were kind, and I felt it. I was actually happy today. The funny thing is, I am happy most days—but I allow myself to get bogged down in moments of despair. My pink floral dress made me feel pretty. The world felt soft and promising again. I had lunch with a coworker and found myself reflecting on all the things that have slowly, quietly started to change. Reminding me of the C.S. Lewis quote:

“Isn’t it funny how day by day nothing changes, but when we look back everything is different.” - C.S. Lewis

Those little building blocks have slowly been added one by one, and I have not really noticed. In less than a month, I’ll graduate with a Master’s in Data Science and AI. That was suppose to take me two years. The braces are coming off soon (YAY)! I’m able to take trips with family and friends. I have the most incredible community—scattered across continents but still deeply connected. I’m finally getting answers about my health and can keep up with regular Pilates classes. I’ve joined a Bible study and found spiritual mentors—two people about to celebrate 50 years of marriage. My friends are starting families, and their joy feels like a gift I get to hold too. At work, I’m growing. I have mentors I admire, leadership I respect, and a boss who truly sees me.

I still want to be married. I still want kids. And there are still so many places I want to go. So many dreams I still have—and still pray will come true.

I don’t know how it’ll all end up.

But in these in between times, I’m choosing joy.