Expectations vs. Real life

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about what my expectations for life were when I was fifteen. I guess this is because I’m turning thirty in three months and all my friends –also turning thirty– talk about it all the time. I’m actually quite excited.

Going back to my 15s, I don’t quite have the life I expected, but I’m happy to say I’m pretty close –or even better. I guess my expectations weren’t the classic the ones. I didn’t expect to own a house, or be married because I felt those kind of things would make me feel trapped, and life shouldn’t be a trap. Here’s what I thought, broadly speaking, my life would be like at 30:

• Successful* and creative

• Have fun at work

• Live alone in Berlin

• Work on my anger

• Surround myself by people who love me and whom I love genuinely.

I mean, I’m not living alone nor in Berlin. With that one I made an upgrade, since the truth is I’m living in sunny Barcelona with the man I love and my senior –still my baby– dog. So all the bulletpoints are checked!

I’m entering this new stage of life with a big smile and a happy heart, knowing for sure that my 15 year old self would’ve think I’m a fucking cool woman.

*Success is not about how much money you make or how many pretty things you possess. It’s about having peace of mind and spirit.