It’s not every day you start a new decade.

Those of you who know me personally understand that I’m neither big on birthdays nor parties. But ahead of turning 30 in August, even I conceded that this one deserved something to mark the occasion.

My wife agreed, and she is not one to take half measures.

Kayt threw me the first birthday party I’ve had in years at a bar in midtown. Gold balloons touched the ceiling, waiters whisked appetizers and drinks, and a colorful mess of printed photos from the last decade adorned the tables and walls.

Nearly everyone who brought a gift decided the best thing to get me was a book or two or three. This reminded me that my friends know me very well.

I’m glad everyone put the disposable cameras to excellent use, too.

Turning 30 removes me from the only role I’ve ever known as the “young guy” in the room. I can no longer fall back on playing dumb or green as a twenty-something.

I know now that youth serves as both an insecurity and a safety net.

At 22, I remember trying to act more experienced than I was so that older people would take me seriously. I knew I didn’t have the chops to back up the confidence I wanted to project, so I worked hard to emulate those who did.

What I missed back then was that nobody expected me to have the chops anyway. The very thing I was trying to overcome — my youth — gave me enormous latitude to screw up.

I made mistakes and changed my mind and acted ridiculous with effectively zero consequence because I was living through a chapter that does not come with high expectations.

Now, as I write this, I certainly don’t feel 30.

I actually feel the same. But now I realize the insecurities I associated with being young did not fade in proportion to the experience I accumulated. They simply change shape as you find bigger fish to fry.

Just a few weeks into being 30, for instance, I spoke at a conference for the first time. Ahead of my talk, I spent time with friends who had dozens under their belts.

I found myself mirroring their comfort in an attempt to shake my own jitters and prove to myself that I could keep up in the big leagues.

This seems like a forever story.

I can’t imagine there is a specific age when you stop looking around the room for people who have done things you haven’t yet but aspire to do.

I used to think moving goalposts meant a rigged game, but this increasingly seems like the whole point. The reward for competence is earning the chance to be uncomfortable somewhere new.

Funny enough, after I walked off the stage at the conference, someone I admire a great deal told me I had officially “made it” in the industry.

If this is what “making it” feels like, it’s remarkably similar to figuring it out as you go, pretending to be more experienced than you are, and looking around the room for someone who knows better.

So maybe 30 is not so different from 22 after all.

Then again, maybe I’ll understand when I’m older.

Let’s have ourselves a year.

Phil Rosen
Co-founder & CEO, Opening Bell Media
Chief Market Strategist, ProCap Financial

Phil Rosen’s Blog

I just turned 30!