Last Friday was my 30th birthday and I had every intention of making this post on that day. Forgive my poor time management (I’m only really apologizing to myself here), things got too hectic to make this post.
The day before I turned 20, I bawled my teenage eyes out. I couldn’t imagine being a grown up, or what being a twenty-year old would feel like. Little did I know how much I’d miss that transition. Now that I’m officially no longer a twenty-something year old, I wanted to take a look back on what life was like for me.
In my 30 years on planet earth, I’ve learned a thing or two. Lessons have been thrown my way that I never anticipated, while others often repeated themselves until I learned the cause (lets face it, I’m still going through this). Wholeheartedly, I miss my twenties but I’m suddenly realizing that maybe my thirties is where it all begins. This is a big, scary transition for me and I’d like to have document that, even if this only serves me.
Taking a walk down memory lane feels strange, and I almost feel like its not mine. The many moves I’ve made to get me here almost feel like a dream I’m struggling to remember and I can’t decide if that’s a good thing. In my thirty years, I have seen lows I never knew I could survives and highs I never thought I’d experience. I’ve had heartache that I couldn’t bare and breakthroughs that shaped me. A week into my 30s, I’m all too aware of how distant that life feels now but happy nonetheless.
I have spent the better part of my life fearing this moment right now, the transition into a number I feared for too long. Now that I’m here, I feel empowered. I can’t believe I do, to be entirely honest, but something hit me. I’ve had best friends from elementary, co-workers in my youth and family members who weren’t lucky enough to see their 30s. Call me morbid, but I’m damn lucky to be here.