Well it’s happened. My 20s are officially behind me. I turned 30 last Sunday. And I feel awesome about it.
I didn’t always feel this way. Past birthdays starting around 25 were always prime time for a meltdown or two on my part. I’m not one who feels spectacular about the years showing up on my face. The lines of time making themselves known across my forehead and the wrinkles around my eyes. Birthday’s had become a source of stress and negativity.
As a side note, it really sucks that your early thirties seem to be the time that it’s most important to be using anti-aging creams etc. but they also overlap with the time when many reproduce. I know I should be slathering myself with retinols and maybe even injecting a thing or two but womp womp, breastfeeding. Then inevitably I’ll have a small window of time where I’m neither breastfeeding nor pregnant and I’ll use all the things and then BOOM pregnant again.
Anyway, I was dreading turning 30, I really was. My twenties were good to me. I got a bachelor’s degree. I traveled to more countries than I can count on my hands. Drove across the United States, coast to coast. Lived in four states. Oh and you know, met the love of my life (just a side note, that one). Locked him down for life (definitely my smartest move yet). And then created a tiny human and finished out the decade as “Mom”. That’s a lot to leave behind!
Some of you may remember that I used to work for a childhood cancer foundation. I later worked at a children’s hospital where I still regularly saw many of the kids I had worked with at the foundation.
Last month the world lost one of those kids. A bright, funny, truly unique young man who I had known for nearly six years. He was sixteen.
It was an instant shift for me, just weeks before my birthday. There will never be photos of him at age 30. He’ll never do so many of the things that my years have afforded me.
It suddenly felt like complaining about my birthday felt like it was a disservice to him and to anyone really who hasn’t made it to this milestone. I’m 30! What a freaking blessing. Lot’s of people don’t get to be 30! And here I am, 30, and genuinely happy. With many of the things I’ve always wanted in life. I have every reason to head in to this decade with a smile on my face.
Did I say 30 enough for you there? This doesn’t mean I fault anyone for feeling bad about their birthday, or about aging, or about the passage of time. I’m just saying that this year was a milestone birthday for me and I happened to gain a hefty helping of perspective just as I reached it.
I’ll think of that wonderful young man, always.
I’m 30. I’m so lucky that I get to be 30. Cheers to the next decade.