Tomorrow I turn thirty.
It’s not in my nature to dread anything in life–I like to take things as they come–but there is something scary about turning thirty.
Thirty means I’m rooted, that I’m settled in for the long haul.
I accomplished a lot in my twenties. Got engaged. Graduated from college. Began a careerlike job. Married my BFF. Bought a house. Obtained a master’s degree. Gave birth to two beautiful and perfect children. Took some awesome vacations.
Despite a great decade, thirty is hitting me hard.
I have NO idea what the thirties will bring and, now that I am a mom, I realize much of the next phase of my life is not up to me; it’s up to my children and how they handle their baby, toddler, preschool, and kid years. Just as I gave up my body for two pregnancies, I’ve given my immediate future to my children. While I hope to continue to grow and define myself as an individual, I am completely accepting that my life is no longer mine. I am now a collective.
So, reluctantly, here I am ready to enter the next decade of life. Let’s hope it involves lots of joy and personal growth. I’ve come a long way since twenty (and refuse to think what I’ll be when I’m forty!!!).