Thirty Things I Learned Before I Turned Thirty
June 26, 2025
Today is the final day of my twenties—a decade that arrived full of possibility and left me transformed.
It was a season of radiant highs: the joy of college, the achievement of graduating law school, traveling across continents, and forming lifelong friendships that feel stitched into my very soul. But it was also a decade marked by aching lows. I watched friends lose the people they love most, witnessed lives upended in an instant. I became a caregiver to my husband and mother as they both faced cancer. I lost myself entirely, more than once. And I found myself again—sometimes quietly, sometimes recklessly, but always entirely.
This decade offered me both champagne-soaked laughter and tear-stained pillows. It gave me resilience and reverence. Here are the truths I gathered along the way—lessons big and small that shaped me into the woman standing at the edge of thirty.
Drink black coffee. It’s easy, unfussy, and always available—whether you’re at a white tablecloth breakfast or grabbing a cup from a street cart. It makes you the world’s easiest houseguest and, let’s be honest, you’ll feel a little superior (even if you pretend you don’t).
Exercise is not punishment. For so long I believed movement was penance for indulgence. But the truth is, your body is not something to tame or battle. It’s a miracle. Now, I don’t even call it “exercise”—it’s just movement, and it’s become as much for my mind as anything else. A walk when I’m spiraling, barre when I need grounding, stretching just to remember I have a body worth caring for. The goal isn’t smaller. It’s softer. Stronger. Free.
What other people think of you is none of your business. This one takes time. And practice. And sometimes, heartbreak. But once you really internalize it—like deep-in-your-bones believe it—it changes everything. Most of the time, what people say or think about you is 99% about them. The sooner you let go of being universally liked, the freer, kinder, and honestly, more magnetic you become. Approval is addictive. But the freedom you’ll find in liking your authentic self? That’s sustanence.
Invest in wonderful pajamas. Real pajamas—matching, soft, thoughtfully made. I love LAKE and Ralph Lauren. I keep a rotation and change them nightly. It’s part of my sleep hygiene now: a quiet cue that the day is over, rest is allowed, and comfort can still feel chic. Simple, small, and surprisingly transformative.
Marry the man who makes you laugh—never at someone else’s expense. There’s a world of difference between cruelty and cleverness. Build your life with someone whose humor is generous, whose wit makes your mind light up. That’s the kind of laughter that lasts forever.
Quit the lash extensions. You look insane. I went through a lash extension phase in 2021 and—no other way to say it—I looked absolutely unhinged. Like a sleep-deprived Miss Piggy. And it didn’t just begin then: I entered my twenties refusing to be seen without a full face of makeup, contour and all. Now? A little brow, a swipe of mascara, and I’m out the door. And honestly? I think I’m more beautiful than I’ve ever been. Not because I’m wearing less, but because I’m not hiding. Strip it back. You’ll still look like you—only less . . . startled.
Meditate—even just three minutes a day. There was a time when my mind felt like a constant group chat I couldn’t mute—rumination, rehashing, replaying every interaction on a loop. Weekly therapy helped, but it was the Headspace app that was transformative. I started meditating for just a few minutes a day, and slowly, I learned to sit with myself. To notice the thought spiral, and then not follow it. The world didn’t get quieter—but I did. And that changed everything.
Buy only nude bras an underwear. It might sound like a total grandma move, but this practice has freed up so much headspace I used to waste negotiating undergarment logistics each morning.
Medication, when approached with care and supervision, is not “the easy way out.”
It's a deeply personal, profoundly brave choice. Sometimes wellness looks like a prescription bottle and a therapy appointment—and that is something to be proud of, not ashamed of.Boldly and loudly cheer on your friends. Applaud with full-hearted enthusiasm and match your support to where they are in life. Whether they need wild celebration or steady presence, make your unwavering loyalty clear. Fierce, present friendship is a gift both given and received.
Buy well-made things. Avoid loud logos. A designer logo doesn’t guarantee quality—or that your hard-earned money is well spent. Learn about the craftsmanship, the history, and the people behind what you buy. Care less about what a stitched—or more likely, machine-printed—logo signals to strangers.
Balance adventurous escapes with "fly-and-flop" retreats. Some trips should thrill you—long days on your feet, countless adventures through cobblestone streets, and late nights dancing in bars with strangers. Others should restore you—barefoot afternoons and bottomless books. Know when your soul needs each.
Not all friendships are meant to last. Not every friendship requires a dramatic or formal farewell. It is possible to care for someone from a distance or recognize when your capacity for connection has been reached, necessitating a gentler, quieter retreat. This need not diminish either party’s character.
The 60-second rule. The 60-second rule matters most when you’re rushing or just going through the motions. Hold the hug, the hand, the gaze—just a little longer. One day, you will want to give sixty years for just sixty more seconds. So, take that moment. Don’t rush it.
Be unapologetically yourself—as soon as you can. For years, I shrank parts of myself—muting my interests, softening my quirks, editing my preferences to seem easier to take in. But real peace began the moment I stopped shying away from who I am. When you stand firmly in your full self—what you love, what you don’t, what makes you light up or shut down—life stops feeling like a performance. That’s when the steadiness finds you.
Find hobbies that are entirely your own. Not monetized, not productive—just joyful. Whether it’s mahjong, needlepoint, or reading, let yourself play again.
If someone makes you feel small, you are allowed to leave. No announcement. No justification. Just a quiet exit and a reclaimed peace. That’s enough.
Your heart will break in a way that feels irreparable. There will be times when it feels like joy has been completely extinguished—like the light has gone out for good, and you're too far down to ever rise again. You’ll be certain happiness isn’t meant for you anymore. But you must believe, even in the quietest part of yourself, that it still exists. That it will return. One day, without warning, warmth will slip back in. Laughter will surprise you. And life will begin to feel quietly possible once more.
Be on time. Being chronically late isn’t a charming, quriky characteristic—it is rude!
Grief does not get smaller. Your life grows around it. Grief doesn’t shrink. It stays—a quiet ache, a shadow you carry. But over time, your life expands around it. You begin to shape a world that holds both the sorrow and the light, where joy can breathe alongside the pain.
Be a bit much. Be the one who laughs loudly, shares boldly, and carries a personality into every room you enter. Be ambitious, be vulnerable, be unapologetically driven—because it’s never the critic who counts.
Comparison is the thief of joy. It is such a cliché, but there is so much truth here. Also, never forget that the "reel" is never the "real".
Have a signature drink. For me? Champagne. Find yours. Let it become a little ritual—an exclamation point at the end of your day, your celebration, your heartbreak. Something that your partner, family, and friends know to have waiting for you for when you arrive.
Stand up for what you know to be right, even when others try to make you question yourself. At a previous job, a high-ranking leader literally screamed at me. At the top of her lungs. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced, either personally or professionally. When I reported it to someone at the top of the firm, I was told that “this is just how she is,” and if it really upset me as much as it appeared to (I was in tears), maybe I wasn’t “cut out to be a litigator.” I wholeheartedly reject that position. No one should ever be treated disrespectfully or called out of their name—especially in a professional setting. I don’t care how the industry has “always been,” what others have “had to go through,” or if it’s part of “earning your stripes.” I am sensitive and strong, and I deserve to be treated with respect. My emotional response to being verbally attacked does not make me weak or unfit to do a job.
Learn how to eat alone. At a restaurant, not scrolling. Just you, a glass of wine, and the rhythm of your own company. Pack along a scrumptious novel, or just pick a beautiful view. It’s one of the most romantic things you can do in this life.
Everything does not happen for a reason. But you can find reason in everything.
You don't need to have all the answers. If you don't know what to say, be honest - and then find out. This applies in the professional setting, but especially when someone is going through a hard time. No one wants to hear platitudes or empty promises. It’s okay to be honest—that you don’t know what to say, that you don't know what the future holds, that the situation you're in is heartbreaking or horrible or candidly fucking sucks. What matters most is that you show up and stay to figure it out alongside them.
Pay to get items tailored. Start to think of tailoring as part of the price tag when you purchase a garment—it truly makes such a difference.
Check your "hot girl hamster wheel". For years, I, like so many twenty-somethings, was so conditioned to spend significant sums of money on regularly recurring beauty treatments - hair, makeup, tans, nails, waxes, lashes, tints, injectables, the works. The more treatments you do, the more treatments you need to maintain, and the more money you spend - and, with that, I present the hot girl hamster wheel. These appointments are also quickly embedded into our lifestyles as "necessary" expenditures, akin to our utility bills or insurance payments. Last year, as an experiment, I stopped getting my bi-monthly mani-pedis I had been getting on a non-stop rotation since I was 18. And, it turns out, I don't miss it at all. It turns out, I didn't even enjoy going to the salon for two hours every other week. And, that's an extra $400 a month in my pocket. Don't be afraid to reexamine the habits blindly labeled “non-negotiable” so that you can free up space—and money—for what you actually want or need.
Be curious, not judgmental. Judgment often masks fear—it’s a way to create a false veneer of certainty or reassurance in a world that forces us to make choices amidst uncertainty and insecurity. But curiosity is the brave choice. It softens rigid beliefs, creates space for growth, and at least for me, has brought me so much peace and grace. The things you feel most sure about? Start there. Freedom begins when you ask, what if I’m wrong?
