Becoming: Restarting Life at 30
- Razan Ghalayini
- Jul 24
- 4 min read
How I reclaimed my dreams, redefined success, and found myself again
25/5/25 - A date so precise it feels like destiny carved it into the calendar just for me. Not merely for its symmetry, but because it marks the beginning of a life I chose, a life I built, a self I reclaimed.
But let’s rewind.
On my 29th birthday, I had a startling realisation: for nearly a decade, I had been drifting - floating through my twenties on autopilot, letting life happen to me instead of shaping it with intention. I had become a stranger to the fierce, purposeful, fearless girl I once knew.
Growing up, I was bold. I chased dreams with certainty. I didn’t ask for permission; I simply went after what I wanted. Instead of shrinking in the face of doubt, I used it as fuel. But life chipped away at me, not with one dramatic blow, but in quiet, persistent taps with rejections, setbacks, and disappointments. The dreams I held tightly began to slip through my fingers.
The final crack came when a goal I had been working toward for years collapsed completely. I tried everything to salvage it. I knocked on every door. But eventually, I had to face the truth: there were no doors left. Just silence.
Worse still, the voices of others grew louder than my own. Their doubts became mine. Their cynicism became my lens. Slowly, I lost sight of who I was and where I was going.
Until one day, on the cusp of 30, I looked in the mirror and barely recognised the woman staring back. I had spent my twenties in a body and mind that didn’t feel like mine. So I made a vow: I would spend the final year of my twenties reclaiming the woman I used to be. And maybe even becoming someone stronger.
I let myself dream again. I created a “30 Before 30” list. It was not just a checklist, but a manifesto. I walked away from the people who drained me. I had always been the kind, open-hearted girl who gave everyone access to her soul. But kindness without boundaries is self-abandonment, and I was done abandoning myself.
I quit the job I had been clinging to for far too long, not because it wasn’t fulfilling, but because I knew there was more. The day I handed in my resignation, I felt like a bird set free. Scared, yes…but free.
I travelled to my dream destination that I had romanticised for years, but never dared to believe I’d see. As I wandered unfamiliar streets, the old me filled with excitement, wonder, and boldness began to reawaken.
I picked up a paintbrush again. I joined an art exhibition. It wasn’t about acclaim; it was about remembering the joy of sharing something I had created. Then I took the stage for a TEDx talk. My hands trembled, but my voice was steady. I spoke about how we’re all born scientists and that life is an experiment where even our failures bring valuable data. I wasn’t just speaking to others; I was reminding myself.
Then came the leap that changed everything: I applied to graduate school. Not just any program, I applied to the exact program I’d always dreamed of; the program that I was told didn’t exist. For years, I talked about the mind-body connection. People dismissed it as “too soft,” “not scientific enough,” but I knew better.
When I found the MSc in Psychology and Neuroscience of the Mind-Body Interface, it felt like finding water in the desert, as if the universe said, This is what you’ve been waiting for. So, I applied only to that program. And I got in.
On the day I turned 30, I celebrated the end of that year with a symbolic act: I jumped out of a plane. I skydived into the unknown, letting go of everything that no longer served me. I landed with a heart full of clarity and conviction.
But the journey didn’t stop there.
After tending to my external world of career, goals, and dreams, I turned inward. I began a deep spring cleaning of my inner self. I asked myself hard questions. Which beliefs are mine? Which are inherited from society?
I reconnected with my values, set firmer boundaries, and learned the art of giving without losing pieces of myself in the process. Through my clinical placement, I saw firsthand how we can help others without emptying our own well. I saw that to care for others, we must first care for ourselves.
And through it all, despite the stress, the sleepless nights, the unknowns, I felt more me than ever before. It turns out all those years I spent applying to graduate programs and walking away were not wasted. They were leading me here - to this exact program, at this exact time, with this exact cohort, a group of forty pioneers in the program’s very first year. I wasn’t late. I was right on time.
In my mid-twenties, I believed that by 30, I should have life figured out. But now, standing at 31, I know the truth: it’s never too late to begin again, to pivot, to dream differently, and to become.
So today, on 25/5/25, I celebrate more than just a birthday. I celebrate a rebirth. I look in the mirror and see her again, Razan at 18, full of life, but who now carries twelve years of wisdom, grit, and growth.
I’m still becoming, and I am still learning. But for the first time in a long time, I know I’m on my path.
And that is everything.
