I'm stepping back onto my blog, drawn by a pressing need to reflect, analyze, and share insights that feel long overdue. Life's duties pulled me away, but some recent experiences have compelled me to address a significant misconception that shaped my mid-twenties: the idea that my thirties would be the "highlight of my existence."

Recently, a jarring encounter sparked a deep dive into this flawed advice. Like many, I've used my trusted social circles to vent, and in one such moment, it hit me: the psychology behind this societal narrative, especially for women. It seems many are subtly conditioned to settle for less as they enter their thirties, unknowingly becoming susceptible to manipulation. It's a quiet insinuation: "I didn't ask you for less; you chose to accept it."

I used to glorify the thirties, particularly for women in the Middle East, campaigning it as the true beginning of life where dreams finally take flight. How naive I was. I now see how this narrative can lead to lowering not just expectations, but also one's own standards, inadvertently giving away the best parts of ourselves under the guise of "compelling arguments."

Unveiling the Realities: Beyond the Rose-Tinted Glasses

I was promised that my thirties would be "my twenties with more money" (if unmarried), the "ideal age for marriage and family," and a period of enhanced experience. The reality often paints a different picture. For many women, it becomes a time of being a "second option" or worse, facing dishonorable proposals. The relentless "you're running out of time" chorus, implying an impending expiration, is far too common, turning the vibrant years of youth into a countdown. This stark contrast between expectation and reality is a bewildering shade of grey for someone who sees the world in black and white.

And work? Let's talk about the audacity of how a Jordanian, Muslim woman in her early thirties is often treated. Bound by tribal respect and cultural adherence, the expectation is that I'm not in a position to demand what's right. My contracts are negotiated for me, with a pervasive feeling that my requests are "ridiculous" or "too much." The unspoken message: "You're in your thirties; you should just be lucky to be considered." And that's before we even touch upon the blurry lines of personal privacy in the workplace—thankfully, my marketing background has taught me to manage my social presence with extreme care.

I know I'm not special in experiencing toxic work environments; many suffer similar pressures. But the sheer weight of it, compounded by these ageist and gendered expectations, is immense. Despite being fortunate enough to start my marketing career at 19, often hired for my 'looks and vibe' as much as my skills (though I'm still a legend, kidding!), my thirties demanded a profound soul search. I found myself impacted by these narratives, resilient as I thought I was. The underlying feeling? Still, never good enough.

Reclaiming Our Narrative: From "Too Much" to "Just Right"

Years ago, I wrote about the freedom of being "the bad guy," about how people project their insecurities onto others. I connected it to facts and my field to reach a broad audience. But it begs the question: How can someone who's perceived as "too much" also be deemed "not good enough"?

How can we possibly be "good enough" if we give up on our dreams? How does "settling" lead to "acceptance"? And how can our dreams turn into nightmares if we listen to others' narrow views of who we "should" be, instead of embracing who we truly know ourselves to be? The questions are endless.

I often tell my friends, I want to confront those who dared to lie about the thirties being the "best time of anyone's life." I want to ask them what they gave up in return, and if they're truly okay. Is it the best years of my life, or am I simply expected to be "best for others"?

What truly stings are the names: "the bad guy," "attitude," "a free spirit," "open-minded." I never saw these as flaws, understanding they often stemmed from others' projections. But with current economic and political tensions, people are inventing new labels, new ways to project their internal struggles onto us. My message is simple: Fix yourselves before you try to fix others. Fulfill your own duties and simply live. Life is complicated enough without people burdening us with their "opinions, not facts," believing they are right.