Turning thirty was like a Christmas morning that I had anticipated for almost ten years. I was hoping it would be a solace from my crazy, messy twenties of running myself ragged, trying to get all the pieces of my perfect life and future into place. I was so looking forward to being thirty and I couldn’t wait to see the neatly wrapped package containing everything I had ever wanted my life to be sitting organized perfectly inside, ready to be revealed.
Funny how life doesn’t often work itself out in neat little packages…
The week of my thirtieth birthday I got a rejection letter from my top-choice graduate school. I thought my life was over and for the next month or so I was pretty lost in a rather deep depression. I did my best to hide how I was feeling for a while, but when I finally confronted my feelings, I realized I wasn’t really sad, I was mad. I was mad at the Universe, The Law of Attraction, God, you name it. Why had my dreams been ignored? I had done everything right!
I had prayed and visualized what I wanted with all my might, taken action, and even made a detailed plan of how I wanted everything to be that would put Monica Geller to shame.
I was angry and determined to discover where the Universe had given up on me. I wanted to prove that I had done everything right and that the principles simply weren’t working just for me. So I started a journal and wrote down everything I did that was a step towards my goal of getting into grad school the following year. I visualized the goal every day. I took extra Latin classes. I told others about my goal. I read tons of Deepak Chopra. I wrote down every boring detail of how I was taking in all this information and visualizing every day.
And it really was boring. When I go back over the journal in the first ‘chapter’, it’s about as captivating as re-watching an accidental video of the inside of your purse.
But as I kept writing, I got better at it. I learned to add in the details of my days and the funny things I noticed, rather than just my indignation and spite at haughty Destiny. I started to really love writing just for the sake of writing.
And then another funny thing happened. The following year, I got rejected again.
But even funnier was…. I didn’t care! I was relieved. It turns out, I didn’t really want it anymore.
Somewhere along the line while I was writing down my thoughts I realized that I was going to grad school because I love research and writing. I had wanted to write and one day be a professor so I could teach and impart my knowledge, and explore it within a community.
Then I realized I could achieve this dream with a blog and a lot less tuition money.
I wanted more of that feeling I got when I was creating something that was a part of me and that reached people on an emotional level. I wanted to help people. And I wanted to do it sooner, rather than five to ten years later when I finally had a PhD.
So that’s what I do now and I have my Big Three-Oh Crisis to thank for it. Without that moment of “Oh crap! I’m running out of time to do everything I want to do!” I never would have snapped out of my obsession with my long-held goal and got down to doing what I truly love.
BIO: Ashe Woodward
I’ve been working in energy healing, hypnosis, teaching and counseling for over seven years and I provide my clients and readers with simple ways to integrate energy work and meditation into their lives, step-by-step, to achieve supercharged success in their thirties and not a moment later.
This week I am releasing my new eBook, The Thirtysomething’s Guide to Successful Goal-Making. Shift your thirties towards achieving your dreams and goals right NOW with fun and simple step-by-step instructions and techniques for crafting big and clear goals. You’ll also learn how easy it is to craft your own visualizations and meditations for success and abundance.
Download your FREE copy until May 1st.
I write about being in my thirties and not wasting any time achieving my goals.
My blog: beingthirties.wordpress.com
Facebook page: facebook.com/beingthirties
Photo credit: http://favim.com/