I turn thirty years old this month. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Up until this point, I never thought it would feel like a big deal.

At 28: Whatever, I’m almost thirty. How different could I possibly feel about just another birthday 2 years from now?

At 29, 10 days away from 30: Wait, are we sure, body? We’re doing this?  We’re moving into a new decade of life? Ok. 

I’m not gonna lie, my life looks a little different than younger me thought it might by the time I’d hit thirty. For starters, I thought I would be stylish and would have grown out of the “only ever wears hoodies and sweats phase” by now…so. I thought I would have a wildly successful wedding photography business, because I also thought that I would magically develop an outgoing personality and become an extrovert who manages to make it through at least one single conversation without being awkward. I thought I would always just have the same clear skin I had in high school. I thought that I’d have at least three kids. But to be fair, I also thought that I would start having kids by the time I was 22. Because you know, that’s just such an adult, practical age to start keeping tiny humans alive. And exactly right now I’m thinking by 40 I’ll probably be a stand up comedian because these are hilarious.

So yeah, it’s not exactly how I pictured it, but it’s turned out better than I could have ever thought or hoped for…minus maybe the whole still not being stylish thing. I’m happy, and my heart feels full and I’m grateful for the life I live and I know turning one year older changes nothing, but I’ve been in my 20’s for ten whole years and I’m just not sure I’m ready to move on yet. I’ve grown and changed and learned a lot and hurt a lot and laughed a lot. I’ve had a college graduation. I made great friends. I’ve built credit. I became strong, not just physically strong but mentally too. I found the best job with the best people. I’ve learned to navigate my way through OCD and feeling depressed sometimes. I fell in love and got married. I’ve watched both my nephew and my niece come into this world and grow and develop their unique little personalities. I’ve felt my heart harden and soften back to mush. I learned how to support myself and be independent. I’ve challenged my body, I’ve injured my body (unintentionally) and I’ve watched it recover and heal. I’ve adventured. I’ve competed. I’ve walked the streets of New York City all alone and I didn’t get lost. I realized I really, really like to write. There has been so, so, much good and a little bit of not good. Lots happened in these past ten years and I’m attached to them. I guess I just kind of feel borderline emotional about leaving them behind. And by borderline emotional I mean I’m crying right now.

Last night I had a lump in my throat as Ivo asked me what I wanted for my birthday. The lump was part emotions, and part anxiety cause what adult ever knows what they want for their birthday? It’s too much pressure. Just kidding. Kind of. I told him I didn’t know. And then I told him I felt a little weird, and I honestly think that’s the best way to describe what I’m feeling. A little weird. There’s some anticipation from experiencing so much in ten years, with a fresh set of ten ahead, knowing that way more can and will come. There’s some nostalgia. There’s what if’s and worries because hi I’m a human. And there’s a lot, a lot, of gratitude. And I think that’s all I have left to say about this, a little because I don’t know how much more I could possibly write about it, and mostly because I don’t know how you’ve even gotten this far reading about it. So, goodbye.

Love,

The almost 30 year old