From the time I was in my mid twenties I started joking about my age. Just to be funny. And then, I turned 30 and it felt FABULOUS being 30. There is so much that I had accomplished by that seemingly daunting number. I had graduated college with 2 separate degrees, had been happily married for over 6 years, I had THREE beautiful children. It was the life I always imagined and I had arrived. Thirty is when I started feeling comfy in my own skin.
In the years since turning 30, that other big milestone number started looking down on me menacingly. So in my mid-thirties I decided to joke some more and just celebrate my 29th birthday every year for all eternity. And it works for me. And nobody believes it, and neither do I, but my husband faithfully puts 29 candles on my birthday cake like the amazing man he is.
Lately, I've been pondering about time that's passed since I turned 30. Has it been scary? Am I suddenly an old lady? No. Actually to be perfectly honest, some very magical things started happening during those years. I got to know me. I spent time in therapy discovering what makes me me. I learned to do things that scared me. I revel in being and introvert but decided I was going to force myself into making friends and being in the spotlight sometimes. I sought God and found healing in many areas of my life. I finally waged war on my lifelong battle with insecurity and found out that what was in me is stronger. God says I am fearfully and wonderfully made and I can say now that I truly believe it. My marriage was challenged, and we came out closer. During this time I realized that my hubby and I find one another HILARIOUS and DELIGHTFUL and beyond that I don't really need to care anymore - because as long as I have him there is 1 person to laugh at my jokes.
These years were exhausting, sometimes excruciating. But isn't that really the sign of growth?
I grew up in my 30s. I guess that what's you could say.
And here I am. I just had my 29th birthday for the 10th time. So you know what that means? That scary number that's been stalking me for the last 9 years? It's getting close. And I am going to be...ahem...40. There, I said it.
I'm going to be 40 and I have finally realized that really....truly...these HAVE to be the best years. My kids are so much fun. Their personalities are in full bloom. Hubby and I CREATED these awesome little hooligans and I get to spend the day with them every day. And I am starting to realize, in just over 4 years, they could start moving on and moving out and begin dreading turing the big 3-0......many many years away (of course I tell them that's the age where it really starts getting GOOD)
I guess I'm realizing that turning 40 isn't so bad. My life is full. I am accomplished. I like ME. I love my family. What more could I want? (my body from my 20s?)
But I think....I might really be ready to celebrate my 40th birthday next year. It's either that or 29 for the 11th time. I've got time to decide.
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