How to turn 30

1. Jump Off More Bridges

Truth be told, the people who repeatedly jump off bridges have way more fun in life. I used to calculate everything based on its risk of failure and embarrassment (two of my formerly held core non-values). I wasted so much time, guys. Finally, I decided that constructing a pseudo-financial future could be put on hold, and I could pursue something called happiness. (Thanks, James.) So I jumped off a bridge, quit my job, moved back to Dallas and now I’m living the life. Actually, that’s not true. But I am a lot less stressed about things that were out of my control — and 1,000 percent happily stressed about all the things that are my responsibility. Final word on this: jumping off bridges has brought the best things to my last year in my 20s — love, freedom, friendship, adventure. Keep jumping.

2. Be Readier To Fail

We’d all love to have Google be our corporate Sugar Daddy. The idea of working in such an oasis, swimming in punch bowls filled with money, is addicting. But there’s only so much room in the Google cafeteria. The smart people around you know that. They also know when a system is broken and when to jump ship. The trouble with jumping ship is you also have the opportunity to sink to your death. I’m not saying you will, but it’s a little more imminent when you’re your own captain. All that to say: be readier to fail, expect it, brace for it and drink some brandy. That’s all I can really say. Millennials in their 30s are a strange breed — we’d rather die on our own terms than live in misery on someone else’s. Fail away, and find some good friends who are willing to do the same. You just might invent the next Google.

3. Practice Being Kinder to Yourself

I can’t take credit for this. That’s all for Susan. But I can’t possibly calculate how much learning to be kind to myself has allowed me to be kinder to those around me. As a fairly non-emotional person, I used to have these occasional outbursts early in the morning when my dog would wake me up. (I know, I know, plenty of people are grumpy with their animals. But not me. I won’t have that brewing inside me.) Eighteen months ago I realized it wasn’t my dog I was angry at — it was me. I began meditating on a regular basis and realized that when I have these incomprehensible risings of anger, somewhere inside I have been unkind to myself… and only I am capable of remedying it. This looks different for everyone, but I started in a simple spot: I stopped beating myself up when I pressed the snooze too many times. And I keep practicing.

I turn 30 on January 9, and I can’t say this enough: growing old is a privilege. Thanks for reading. I’d love to be friends.

This post originally appeared here.