Why, yes, yes it was my birthday.
It came. It went.
I have successfully navigated my way out of my 20’s and into my 30’s. The past ten years have often been chaotic and turbulent. And I wonder how I muddled my way through a tempest of self-discovery crammed with such confusion and blunders. I’ve made my fair share of sound choices and foolish mistakes, and unfortunately I’m inclined to think the latter trumped the former in the earlier part of the decade. Were it not for the love of my steadfast parents, I may not have been able to pull my head from out of the depths of my ass so thoroughly. The evolution from an immature narcissist to a stable and accountable adult wasn’t something I fought against, just something I didn’t realize was possible. Single parenthood just was. Objectives that required more than minimal effort weren’t worth my time. As long as the furtive abuse of my body remained unnoticed, it could continue. And as long as I maintained just enough marbles to get us to tomorrow, it could continue. Thinking beyond tomorrow just didn’t happen.
I wish I had made better financial decisions. I wish I had completed college when I had earlier chances. I wish I hadn’t lowered my expectations by surrounding myself with people who denied me love and respect. But wishing doesn’t change the present, nor does it amend the past. It can only arm me with the good sense to not duplicate my mistakes. I’ve heard that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over but expecting different results. I’m not insane.
I’ve been ridiculously brooding and pouting about the number of years I’ve been on this earth. 30. April 7th had been looming in my mind and causing me pointless stress because there was no dodging or sidestepping it. It was as if I was trapped in Helm’s Deep, waiting for the pounding drums to bring forth an approaching army of Orcs, having only a single iron sword and shield with which to defend myself. The army came, breached my deepening wall and washed over me like wine. Then I blew out the candles, opened my birthday cards, and went out for Italian with the Husband.
So now I’m 30 years old.
And I’m still the same woman I was at 29. Except I rock just a little bit more. I’m less apt to repeat stupid mistakes and more inclined to realize my potential. My step-mother called me to wish me a Happy Birthday and unlike most other callers who razzed me about turning 30, she said “you think 30 is cool, just wait until 40, it only gets better.” I believe her. I believe we grow more beautiful in manners than have little to do with the body. I want to be beautiful like that. I want graceful maturity. I want sublime sophistication. I want to be divine. Shit. How’s that for corny?
Not to mention what a cash-cow a birthday can be! I’m going shopppppping…..
Oh, and the Papoose? The drooling monkey turned one today. What a wicked day for chocolate frosting, mini pizzas, balloons, a couple temper tantrums, and a slobbery kiss.
I have successfully navigated my way out of my 20’s and into my 30’s. The past ten years have often been chaotic and turbulent. And I wonder how I muddled my way through a tempest of self-discovery crammed with such confusion and blunders. I’ve made my fair share of sound choices and foolish mistakes, and unfortunately I’m inclined to think the latter trumped the former in the earlier part of the decade. Were it not for the love of my steadfast parents, I may not have been able to pull my head from out of the depths of my ass so thoroughly. The evolution from an immature narcissist to a stable and accountable adult wasn’t something I fought against, just something I didn’t realize was possible. Single parenthood just was. Objectives that required more than minimal effort weren’t worth my time. As long as the furtive abuse of my body remained unnoticed, it could continue. And as long as I maintained just enough marbles to get us to tomorrow, it could continue. Thinking beyond tomorrow just didn’t happen.
I wish I had made better financial decisions. I wish I had completed college when I had earlier chances. I wish I hadn’t lowered my expectations by surrounding myself with people who denied me love and respect. But wishing doesn’t change the present, nor does it amend the past. It can only arm me with the good sense to not duplicate my mistakes. I’ve heard that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over but expecting different results. I’m not insane.
I’ve been ridiculously brooding and pouting about the number of years I’ve been on this earth. 30. April 7th had been looming in my mind and causing me pointless stress because there was no dodging or sidestepping it. It was as if I was trapped in Helm’s Deep, waiting for the pounding drums to bring forth an approaching army of Orcs, having only a single iron sword and shield with which to defend myself. The army came, breached my deepening wall and washed over me like wine. Then I blew out the candles, opened my birthday cards, and went out for Italian with the Husband.
So now I’m 30 years old.
And I’m still the same woman I was at 29. Except I rock just a little bit more. I’m less apt to repeat stupid mistakes and more inclined to realize my potential. My step-mother called me to wish me a Happy Birthday and unlike most other callers who razzed me about turning 30, she said “you think 30 is cool, just wait until 40, it only gets better.” I believe her. I believe we grow more beautiful in manners than have little to do with the body. I want to be beautiful like that. I want graceful maturity. I want sublime sophistication. I want to be divine. Shit. How’s that for corny?
Not to mention what a cash-cow a birthday can be! I’m going shopppppping…..
Oh, and the Papoose? The drooling monkey turned one today. What a wicked day for chocolate frosting, mini pizzas, balloons, a couple temper tantrums, and a slobbery kiss.
posted by Renée at 10:16 PM
3 Comments:
It wasn't so bad, huh. I believe life gets better with age, too. I am so happy I've grown through the last decade and managed to come out somewhere on the other side alive. It's also comforting to know life is not all down hill after your 20's (and hopefully a little less up hill!). Hooray for you, it's over. Hope you bought yourself something decadent with your birthday moolah. You deserve it.
Happy Belated Birthday! I've heard the same things your mil said, and because of that I didn't worry about turning 30. Now in a few short weeks I will be 31, that's another story, I haven't heard any great stories about 31!
Welcome to the 30's! They've been great fun for me so far...we'll see how 40 goes, though...eeeek...
Happy Birthday, baby! :)
xoxo
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