30 and Unwed: A Latina Mother’s Nightmare

It’s official. I am 30 and single. Where do I send my letter of apology?

Image Taken by Author on my 30th Birthday: Can you see the thirty-year-old wisdom?

At 30, I have accepted that my life is not even close to what I thought it would be. In my younger years, I imagined at 30 I would have been in the midst of traveling, settling down with a husband and our eight children, and working as a writer, Carrie Bradshaw style. Maybe I would be solving crime too but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

For many years this had been my fantasy. Thirty, flirty, and thriving. However, my reality has slightly differed from my fantasy.

My reality of 30:

• At 30 I am managing a job in social work that is so dull, the intensifying boredom has caused me to wonder whether I am undergoing some sort of social test in the Matrix with the hypothesis: We believe the Latina participant will stab herself in the eye with an ergonomic pen within 90 days.
• At 30, the only traveling I have done has been around big cities in the United States to serve my impending alcoholism and a dozen Jack-In-The-Box’s around southern California to serve my voracious food addiction.
• At 30, I don’t have children but I have come close. (Click here if you’d like to be bummed out.)
• And at 30, I am single…