Thirty, and Still Becoming

I Want to Live Again

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Hey folks,

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It has been a minute.

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I knew I wanted to write and publish, even if only once a year on my birthdays, but this time, I just couldn't because I was away for my birthday and didn't have my laptop. So, that morning, I wrote but couldn't publish.

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So, here I am, eleven days later, working out the details and cleaning the text, dotting the i's and crossing the t's — which is my least favourite part of writing but the most important.

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So, this post isn't perfect. It's not at the level of sophistication or detail I aimed for, but if there is one thing I want to do going forward, it is to aim for done and not perfect, and most importantly, to do the things I say I'll do and get out of my comfort zone.

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So, here's to 30!

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I'm grateful for a lot of things — family, friends, and everything around and in between. I couldnt have made it through the last year without the people who surround me.

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I barely remember what the first half of my 20s was about. I guess I complained a lot about how busy school and life were and dreamed of this moment. I wish that Cynthia could see me now - I barely remember what I was so busy doing.

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I didn't think too much about what stepping into a new decade would mean. But I did imagine turning 30 on a girls' trip or doing something life-altering, like travelling somewhere fun with some female friends or just friends. I'd dress up, too — and that's coming from someone who hasn't dressed up in a while.

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If I was being completely honest, I didn't think I'd have a baby or even be married.  I didn’t think I’d spend my birthday in Prague with a husband and a baby on vacation, but then look forward to coming back home because I barely slept on the trip because he (baby) wanted to be held to sleep - (it’s my birthday, young mister!) But I guess that doesn't matter, not to him at least and not yet.

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The second half of my twenties, though? Got married, moved countries twice, lived my dream as a nomad (albeit a mini-broke one), got a diagnosis for ADHD, Dad died, got my BSc, got pregnant, had a baby, second dad died (recently lost my father-in-law. He was such a lovely man).

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Feels like everything happened in the second half. Things I am still processing.

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However, I have learned to stay grateful even through the most unimaginable times.

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And then, somehow, I'm 30.

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Finding my spark

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For my last year as a 20s baby, I struggled a lot, mentally, emotionally, and physically. It's been hard staying motivated through all the changes, the hormones, and the demands of being a new mum. I've had intrusive thoughts about the wildest things, but most shockingly, I've felt very uncomfortable in my new body.

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I am proof of this body. It carried me and created life. And it's still nurturing life by providing sustenance to my baby.

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I also really would love to feel strong again — jump rope non-stop for 30 minutes, do the StairMaster, or just do push-ups without losing my breath.

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Being pregnant and having a baby, I think is one of the strongest power any human can express. But it is chaotic to match the energy from birthing to the weakness one feels right after, and it can take months or years to feel like yourself again.

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I guess it's like they say, "it's a battle", "birthing is visiting the underworld, fighting for both lives and making it out". That can't be easy to recover from.

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But here's the thing: I think I started losing my spark way before the baby.

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Before moving countries, I was burnt out from work. And to make it worse, my contract hours got reduced. The team didn't need me anymore, or, in a more corporate tone, "I wasn't the right fit at the moment".

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After moving to Malta as a digital nomad in 2023, I relaxed a bit but wasn't keen on returning to the workforce.

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Since then, I've held myself back from trying too much because I'm scared of being rejected again or not being the right fit.

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I've worked to learn programming and eventually became a technical writer, but somehow, the world keeps "letting me go" at the end of my contracts. I'm 30 and have never worked at a place for more than two years.

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And it's hard not to wonder what that says about you.

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I understand that I will never be the right fit everywhere, because I tend to be a little bit different, but it is hard to earn a living in a world built for certain humans.

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And when you keep experiencing rejection, even when you know you've put in the work, you start to wonder whether it's worth trying again. You start holding yourself back. You start questioning yourself before you've even given yourself a chance.

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I miss the Cynthia who signed up for Mandarin classes just because it sounded like fun or travelled across states to go for a modelling gig that didn't pay me shit, but I did it anyways because it was fun and I just "came alive".

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The girl who became a model, learned Mandarin, and just believed in herself is still there. But she hides a lot now because the world has told her she didn't fit in the workforce.

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And I miss her.

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I miss doing things just because I want to. Without needing to know if I'll be good at them, if they'll lead somewhere, if they'll make me money, or if someone will think I'm worth the opportunity.

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I miss the freedom of trying.

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The thing that made me me. The thing that made me Obiagu (Obiagu means "lion heart" or "tiger heart", and stands for bravery and strength).

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I wonder sometimes where all that bravery went.

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But perhaps she's still here. Maybe she's just tired, or she's been told "you're not the right fit" enough times to start believing it.

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I gradually started finding podcasts and TED Talks I enjoy and rewatching them while finding new ones. I found courses I wanna take in the things that interest me. Which is important because all this while, I’ve done things to fit in and survive (pay bills), and for the first time, I’m thinking I want to do the things I actually do care about and enjoy the process.

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Whatever it is, I want to find her again.

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I want to live again.

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To live again is to want to dress up. To look good or put together. To wear lip gloss, red lipstick, or even eye makeup again.

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It's trying colours on my body without waiting until I've lost the weight I gained during pregnancy. It's dressing this current body up without pressuring it to look a certain way.

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I was 74kg pre-pregnancy and could do 15 push-ups and take my apartment stairs to the 13th floor in 4mins. Now, I'm 83kg and can barely do five push-ups, and that's a lot of progress because I could barely do one push-up four months ago.

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I want to feel strong again. I want to eat balanced, healthy meals and work out as much as possible. I know I won't lose all the weight overnight, and I'm breastfeeding, so I want to be sensible about it. And as my coach has pointed out, I'll be kinder to myself.

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I don't want to spend this decade waiting for my body to become something else before I allow myself to enjoy it.

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Living again is exploring new music and not just forwarding my Spotify recommendations. It's challenging myself to try new things and giving myself permission to suck at them and be okay.

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It's finding what makes me, me.

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And I want to celebrate myself, too.

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For such a long time, I felt that I had to be real with people about things and that the world always shows just the happy parts. I felt it was my responsibility to share the ugly parts of life, and I did it for a while.

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And it's great to be that vulnerable. I still want to be honest about life. But I also want to be able to share happy moments. I don’t want to be the tortured artist

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Yes, I'd always thought, why share five minutes of happiness if I know I'll be sad again in ten minutes?

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But mehnnnnnnnn, everything is exhausting at this point, and I really do not want to care that much.

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I want to enjoy things without having to explain why I'm enjoying them. I want to share the happy moments without feeling like I have to balance them out with something sad or difficult to prove that I'm being real.

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I want to be a BTS ARMY without feeling judged or shying away from being inspired by fellow artists.

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I want to sing and dance on my walks, laugh out loud, and step outside my comfort zone.

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I do not want to fit into any sort of boxes. I want to be the girl who moms, does Pilates, does yoga, writes, draws, sings, dances, and most importantly, the girl who loves and lives.

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I want to be surprised again.

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I want to stand in awe of things. I want to wonder at the world, to have those moments where something is so beautiful or unexpected that I just stop and take it all in.

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I want to rediscover life again.

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I want to make new friends — the weird, whimsical, and outright crazy fellas.

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I want to experience newness while embracing the old.

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Motherhood, ambition, and everything in between

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Becoming a mother has changed how I see a lot of things.

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It made me realise that my job, really, was just a job. Being a mum, though challenging, has been more fulfilling.

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Now, I really want to find work or a job that feels fulfilling in some way. I wish to create things that matter.

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I want a job that I can do 20 hours per week, contribute in a meaningful way, and earn as much as I earn now on 40 hours or more.

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I know, I know. A girl can dream.

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But my time suddenly feels more valuable. Flexibility matters more, too.

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It's difficult having to mute some of my ambitions because I can't afford the resources — time, especially — to pursue them at the moment. There are so many things I want to learn and make, and motherhood has made me more aware of how little time there can be for the things outside the immediate demands of life.

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On the other hand, I feel more inspired to try, not just for myself but so my son knows that Mum lived and did what she wanted, that he never limited my abilities; rather, he made me roar more, and he can do it too.

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I want Asher to know that being a mum doesn't mean I stopped being Cynthia.

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I want him to see me learning, creating, trying things, making mistakes, and pursuing the things that matter to me. Not because I need to prove that motherhood hasn't limited me, but because I want him to know that he can build a life around the things he loves, too.

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I don't want to have to choose between being a mum and being a person with interests, dreams, and ambitions.

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I want room for both.

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Daring greatly

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For this new year, I just pray for peace, calm, motivation to want things again, and the confidence to pursue them.

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The energy to dare greatly again.

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For me, daring greatly is pursuing my interests and dream of writing and being a published author.

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It's opening a YouTube account and creating a community or place where I can share knowledge or tips about life.

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It’s inspiring young women to want more out of life and create their own path.

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It's signing up for ballet class even though I know I have zero flexibility.

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It's being okay with being a beginner and sucking at it.

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It's acquiring all the hobbies I want — drawing, sewing, writing, illustration, new languages, all of it — and having depth in them, too.

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It's having the guts to start all the things I've planned and researched for.

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And yes, I know myself. I can spend a ridiculous amount of time researching, planning, and thinking about things without actually starting them.

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But I don't want this birthday musing to become another list of promises I'll feel guilty about not keeping. I'm not promising that I'll stop procrastinating or eat 100% healthy. I'm not promising that I'll suddenly become the most disciplined person in the world.

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I just want to start.

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I want to take one bold step at a time. I'll be intentional about creating the life and experiences I want. 

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And I want to do it without turning every interest into another thing I have to be good at.

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I want to write because I love writing. I want to draw, sew, and illustrate because I want to learn how to make things. I want to try ballet even if only just to explore my curiosity. I want to be a beginner without feeling embarrassed about it.

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I want to make things that matter, and I want to make things just because they make me happy.

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I want to keep my friendships, make new friends, travel, sing out more.

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I want to create a life that feels like mine.

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I'm unsure of a lot of things right now, but one thing I'll start with is feeling like myself again.

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Not the exact version of Cynthia from years ago. Not a version of me who has everything figured out. Just a version of me who is curious, who tries, who is willing to be seen, and who doesn't let the fear of not fitting in stop her from living.

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I want to be a mum and still be Cynthia. I want to be ambitious and kind to myself. I want to be honest about the difficult parts of life and allow myself to celebrate the happy ones, too.

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I want to dare greatly.

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And this time, I want to be kinder to myself along the way.

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Here's to 30. To figuring things out, to trying again, to making things, to living, and to all the things I haven't even imagined yet.

The last decade was something.

Let's see what this one brings.

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Till I write you again, Obiagu.