I have been having some (dreaded) feelings about growing another year older, but until now, I hadn't been sure how to blog about them.
It started when I realized that, at my age, my mother had been married, produced two perfect children (I suppose this is up for dispute, but this is my blog and I never said it was unbiased), gotten a divorce, remarried, and was a few months pregnant with her third kid.
Pardon my French, but holy fucking shit.
Last week, I posted a Facebook status about how I was "adulting" by washing, drying, folding, and putting away my laundry all in the same day. Reflecting on what my mother was doing at my age, I started to feel somewhat unaccomplished and inadequate. What have I done in my life? What mark have I left on the world?
I started evaluating. I have no children, no pets, no husband, no job that has lasted more than a couple years, and no home with a deed in my name. I drink more often than I probably should, occasionally eat fast food, ride my bike without a helmet (sorry, Mom) and sometimes smoke pot (relax, it's legal in Colorado). I'm overweight and underpaid, my fridge is almost always empty, and I haven't been on a real first date in over two years.
But damn, am I happy.
And you know what? So is my mom. I think if you asked her if she regrets anything in her life, she would undoubtedly say no, and that every decision she made lead her to where she is right at this very moment. That she wouldn't take back having me (even though I arrived to complicate everyone's lives when her firstborn was only 20 months old), or even marrying my father (after all, he brought her the two wonderful daughters I mentioned above). I know she has never thought twice about her second marriage, which brought her not only her third biological child, but also a stepdaughter who she has always considered to be one of her own.
Did my mother's life turn out like she thought it would? I'm sure not. When I was a screaming baby and my sister a screaming toddler, I cannot imagine she looked towards her future and envisioned divorce, blended families, or a bachelor's degree in English (which she achieved at age 48, two weeks after I received mine. I decided to include this because it is important to remind everyone that my mother is, indeed, brilliant).
But things don't happen how we think they will. Life is not a textbook, or a map, or a users manual. When I was a kid, I always assumed I would get married and have children of my own, because that's what was modeled to me. About halfway through my own 31-year model, I realized I had choices, and I started making them. As many and as often as I could, I chose things I wanted to do, whenever I wanted to do them. I moved. A lot. I changed jobs, cars, and haircuts. I lived for change.
All of these seemingly unconnected choices have lead me here, on the birthday-eve-eve of 31, realizing that you can do whatever is right for you and it will be just that - right. So I plan to ring in my 31st birthday with (really)short hair, in a tshirt (and probably a Red Sox cap), single as hell, at a house party in the mountains of Colorado, after a full day of bartending for $5 an hour (plus tips). It may not be everyone's ideal, but damn, am I happy.
If this is what being "in your 30's" looks like, then please, bring it on.
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