I'm turning 30 this week. I don't really wan't to talk about it.
Don't get me wrong - I don't think 30 is old, or that life is passing me by. (Helpful note to any young person who happens to read this: when you turn 25, you are not "getting SO old." However, you do make anyone older than you feel sort of matronly/spinsterly when you complain about how terrified you are to turn 27.) There's nothing I really can't do anymore at 30, except maybe be a high-dollar hooker. And to be honest, I don't know enough about the career path to know whether that particular door has closed or not.
I am in a funk, though. I don't know if it's my birthday, our upcoming move, the holidays, or just my old friend Depression rearing its ugly head, but I can't seem to clear the fog. I've disabled as many birthday auto-reminders as I can so that friends and acquaintances will forget to say anything. I'm just not in a mood to celebrate myself.
It's about time for me to post my list of "30 Things I'm Proud to Have Accomplished," for my 30 Before 30 list. I made a list of accomplishments, but I feel like posting it would be dishonest. It's not time for my greatest hits; I'm still in my sophomore slump.
I don't mean to be a downer. Soon enough, life will be all baby chickens and new beginnings, and I'll barely remember feeling so worried and discouraged.
I'm just not quite there yet.