I just looked it up. It’s 52 days until my 30th birthday. Entering my 30s feels like a big deal. It feels like I should have my life sorted by now. I look around me and everyone seems to be on the right track – my friends are all either in relationships, engaged, have bought their own homes or started families. I haven’t done any of that. I am nowhere near doing any of that.

I’m well past the days when I would get excited about my birthday (I have a vivd memory of telling someone “it’s my birthday tomorrow!” when I was about to turn 10 and that feeling like the best thing in the world) and I wouldn’t say I was dreading turning 30. It is a milestone, though. It’s as if I could still claim to be youthful at 29, but 30 is where sensible adults are. At work, I still associate myself with colleagues who have just come out of uni. I mentally attach myself to that 18-21 age group. I left uni in 2013! This is a natural time to take stock and wonder whether I am where I want to be in life.

Well, I mentioned work. I’ve been doing the same job for the last 12 years. It was only ever meant to be a little part time job I did to give me a bit of extra cash while I was at uni, but it has been my only meaningful income since I was 17. Gradually, I was given more responsibility at work – god knows, my brain would have melted through boredom if I was still doing the same thing after all these years – and I go around trying to make it look like I know what I’m doing when really I feel like a total impostor. I have low self esteem anyway but bad experiences have made me believe that my best isn’t good enough and it would all work a lot better without me. Minor things that go wrong will play on my mind for days.

I am acutely aware that my colleagues probably see me as awkward, uptight, maybe even a bit weird. I wish they could see the real me, who is actually easy going, prefers deep conversations to small talk and likes silly jokes. I just feel like, when I put that uniform on, I have to be serious and I know that alienates people.

Of course, I’d like to do something more interesting. I went to uni for 3 years and left with a journalism degree, even if I have been known to say it’s not worth the paper it’s printed on. I have always loved writing, it is my only discernible skill or talent in my eyes, and would love to make a living out of it. It’s a very hard industry to get into, though, and as I approach 30 I have never been paid for a single word. I do browse the job sites on a regular basis but am yet to find anything that sounds better than what I already do. Maybe I’m too comfortable.

If I got a job that paid more, I might able to afford to live alone. I do wonder why women never show any interest in me, but at the moment it isn’t bothering me and I would say my relationship status was “single but not looking”. I’ve got a lot of work to do on myself before anyone will come close to me. My mum is wonderful and her other half has been very accomodating since I had to move in with them recently, but ultimately I would like my own place.

My passions are things that define me: football, cricket, music, comedy. These pursuits have all made hero figures in my life, and I think that’s because they are the living emodiment of what I would like to be. I want to be as good at what I do as Joe Root, I want to be as cool as Alex Turner, I want to be as funny as Dave Allen. I can’t help but think I should just make the most of what I actually am and it’s possible I might be happier for it.

I have never smoked, I hardly ever drink and I have never been anywhere near drugs. My vice is junk food. I eat way too much chocolate, crisps, biscuits and sweets. I comfort eat. This was alright when I was more active but since the pandemic started I am going on fewer walks and have stopped playing cricket, so I am noticing my increasing weight. It sounds like an easy thing to address – just stop eating rubbish – but to me it doesn’t seem that simple.

Well, to bring this ramble to a close, it’s been cathartic to get these thoughts out of my head and onto a screen. Am I where I want to be in life? No. Is there any reason why my 30s can’t be the making of me? Absolutely not.