Next week I’m leaving my twenties. Which is really really strange, because I’m still 23, right?
For a long time I felt like I was young. I started kindergarten when I was 4, so I WAS always young. Then I chose not to go to college and just jump straight into the work force, this again made me the young one. I remember when I was a supervisor at a printing company when I was 19, and almost all of my subordinates were significantly older than me, which was weird. I met Mr. Gaunt about a month after I turned 21 and had moved to Colorado. He was 26, so again, I was young. I got married two weeks after I turned 26.
When I was pregnant with Vada and my midwife said “Well in the scheme of your peak fertile years, you are on the older side for your first pregnancy” I was 27. It was the first time I felt a little bit worried about my age. In my head I wanted 2-3 children all before I was 30, because 30 is OLD. How could I possibly be birthing children in my THIRTIES, no way. My mom was 21, 23, and 27 when she had her children. My grandma was (I believe) 21, 24, and 28 when she had her children. But here I am, not giving birth this week, so it looks like if we plan to have more children they will GASP be in my thirties.
I graduated high school at 17. I moved in with a boyfriend that I kind of liked, and kid of hated when I was 19. I think for a while there, the whole skipping out on college thing felt so freaking overwhelming. I felt so lost about what I should be doing with my life. Was I playing house? Should I marry this guy? Should we be buying furniture together? Wait! I can’t even legally drink yet! I still want to be with other people! I want to travel! It’s funny when you are (almost) thirty, you stop feeling so angsty. I mean, now you feel stressed, and tired, and annoyed, but that crazy head throbbing angst that you had in your early twenties, it just vanishes. I remember my MySpace blog, many moons ago, and how fucking emotional it was. So filled with drama, and dreams, and tears, and song lyrics that no one could relate to like I could. I’m sure I would feel just horrified now looking back at those blog posts, how silly I was. But it was real. Those feelings you have when you are young and just on the very tip of adult life, and you feel like you know everything, and nothing all at the same time. That shit is real, and to be totally honest, thank god I felt all of that! Thank god I had those feelings, those lessons, that time of total confusion. It makes these boring days of motherhood seem a little more blissful than they are.
When I was in my mid twenties I spent a good few years obsessing about myself. I battled depression, and tons and tons of body issues. I worried about jobs, about whether or not I wanted to get married, about what my friends were doing with their lives. I felt jealous a lot. I wanted to be thin, and attractive, and rich, and drive a nice car, and have a good job. I wanted a big house, nice clothes, vacations. AND I WANTED IT NOW! At 25 I lost like a million pounds…well 75 pounds, and people said “you look so good!” “You’re an inspiration!” “You must feel amazing!” but I totally didn’t. I felt scared and obsessed. I spent all day long thinking about what I ate, what I wore, what the scale said. I couldn’t even see how I looked, I couldn’t see the difference, and I sure as hell couldn’t find happiness. I’ve since gained a lot of the weight back, which is kind of bummer, but also kind of a saving grace. The best thing about being (almost) thirty is self love. It’s realizing that no one who matters gives two shits what I weigh. It’s friends that tell you you look great even if you gained 20 lbs this year. Its celebrating your own accomplishments that have nothing to do with your physical appearance. It’s building a good relationship with food, EVEN if you still probably eat too much. Because it just doesn’t matter. My looks will never be able to make me truly happy. It’s my life, and my soul that make me happy, my looks are just surface stuff that straight up doesn’t matter…at all. So if you see me, and you think “wow she’s gained some weight over the last few years” that’s totally fine! And true! But I’ve also gained a family, a baby, a business, a beautiful home, some awesome supportive friends, a whole bunch of confidence….and those are the things that it’s cool for us to talk about, because my weight isn’t who I am, at all.
I’m not really sure what my thirties are going to bring. I understand now why many woman get a little lost, a little buried if they are doing the motherhood thing in their thirties. Just this morning in the shower I was thinking how un-funny I am these days. I use to think of myself as really funny, but now I’m a little bit boring. I don’t have as many witty remarks, I don’t drink as much, I feel tired and dull. I’m not necessarily complaining about these things, it’s just sort of my reality right now. I have a harder time letting loose now. Mostly because there is a kid who needs a new diaper, or something to be cleaned up, or money to be spent on bills. My days are filled to the brim with duties I have. Commitments, job stuff, whatever. And when I do have some free time I like to do boring mom shit like go to target, get a pedicure, or start on Halloween costumes. I think it’s just my season…to be a bit boring.
I’m hoping my thirties bring me another baby, and maybe some career adjustments. I’m hoping I can become a little more graceful and easygoing in this motherhood roll. I hope to make more friends, or at least find a way to hold on to the ones that mean something to me. I hope to let more shit roll off my back. I hope to find a little more love and excitement in my marriage, but also if we don’t, that we still appreciate each other daily. I hope we have lots of family vacations, holidays, and get to build our own traditions. I hope to keep my own voice, to do things for me too, to celebrate my own life, not just the life of my family.
So happy almost birthday to me. 29 years under my belt, not a wrinkle in sight (;