Welcome to 31

At this time last year, I hit a milestone in my life. Not like some big, life accomplishment, but I turned the big 3-0. Some people aren't bothered by their birthdays or turning another year older, and to those people I say, "teach me your ways." I wish that birthdays didn't bother me, but the truth is, each year that my age goes up, my internal clock starts ticking louder and louder. This clock isn't the same as a lot of women my age. I'm not dying to have children or grow my family, but my clock is reminding me of my insatiable hunger for life. For some reason, hitting my third decade made me feel like I was damn near out of time to accomplish my goals.

I remember a few days before that big day, I was sitting at the dinner table with my husband and I a.b.s.o.l.u.t.e.l.y LOST IT. His fork hovered in the air, his mouth slightly open, and his eyes widened as he watched me... scrambling for something consoling to say. I was bawling hysterically, probably mumbling something about fossilizing and not accomplishing ANYTHING in my life. This reaction to turning 30 was obviously a bit overdramatic, but it's the reality of what happened. I didn't gracefully slide into this new chapter of my life; I tumbled into it kicking and screaming... literally. One minute I was crying, and the next minute I was acting like I was preparing for the biggest boxing match of my life... bouncing back and forth from foot to foot, fists raised, and telling myself that this was no big deal.... and then I was curled up in the fetal position crying once again. This cycle continued far longer than I am comfortable admitting, but I eventually accepted my new age. The funny thing is, most of my friends had turned 30 a few years before, and I thought they were entering the greatest chapter of their lives.

As the months passed, I began to realize that this was definitely going to be my time to shine. I could feel tremendous personal growth, and I began envisioning goals for my future that would inevitably bring me happiness. My husband and I got serious about moving out west, and we even spent a long weekend in Albuquerque so that he could interview with a potential employer. As my personal growth continued to strengthen, I felt unstoppable. I was still, however, unhappy with the fact that 30 didn't look the way I had always thought it would. I figured I would have my ideal career, a great group of friends, a killer social life, and one or two hobbies that would make me feel more alive than I ever had. Compared to that Instagram worthy life, my "30" was actually a messy, impromptuous collection of "eh, try again tomorrow?"... but it was much more realistic. Why in the world did I think that turning a certain age would give me all of the answers to life?

After my near mental breakdown a year ago, I thought that there was no way I could ever feel more panicky than that. HA! Welcome to 31! Tomorrow is my birthday (please make them stop), and all day I have felt sensitive and completely out of sorts. I didn't quite make the connection until late afternoon, but I realized that the deafening ticking of my internal clock was at it again. If I look at the big picture, I haven't made the major changes in my life that I was hoping to make throughout the past year. I have, however, made a lot of small changes that are, unfortunately, not always easy to recognize and appreciate. One thing that I wish I had made more progress toward is slowing down and being more present. I continue to feel like I'm running a race, in which I'm always coming in last. This feeling holds no merit in regards to my reality, however, because in order to run a race, there needs to be more than one participant. This is my life, and I am not in a competition with anyone except the person I was yesterday. When I look at it this way, its easy to see that I'm not in last place. As a matter of fact, I'm in first place, and I'm killing it!

Going into this next year of my life, I'm going to make a few promises... I promise to be more patient with myself. I promise to always do what's best for my future self. I promise to put in the work necessary to be better than I was the day before. I promise to slow down and enjoy both the big and small moments. I promise to stop treating my race as a sprint, and to treat it as a marathon. I promise to appreciate this unique, beautifully imperfect adventure called my life.