30, but not 30.
I am physically 30, but I am nothing like the typical 30 year old, at least not where I live.
I am married, which in this area for a woman is expected by 22, if not earlier. I got married when I was almost 27. We have no kids. Most women my age here have two or three children by my age. A couple even have four. I have nothing in common with thirty year old women in my area. Their lives tend to revolve around children, and if not children, then their work. I don’t even have a job. I wish I did, but I don’t.
I feel that there are certain “milestones” to meet before you hit 30, and I haven’t met any of them. Things like having a career (not just a job) and a degree. I have neither. Things like a down payment for your first house. I’m still renting, and barely affording a roof in the poorest sector of town. And this is an area with a low cost of living. Things like knowing how to drive.
My family hindered my independence at every turn, to the point where I had to become homeless in order to take charge of my own life. But I fear it’s too late.