As I’m sitting here on the morning of my 30th birthday, in an amazing New York City hotel, I’m feeling a little underwhelmed with a heaping side of overwhelmed.
I don’t know if I expected to feel any different this morning. I mean, what does 30 feel like? What, exactly, is being 30?
I always saw 30 as being a grown up. Surely, I am not a grown up, am I? On paper, I am definitely grown up. Married with two children, business owner. That’s a grown up. So then why do I feel like I don’t quite match up to the person on the paper?
I have clinging onto the last days of being 29 for as long as I could. The hubster has been saying I’m 30 since at least Christmas. Why was he in such a hurry to take those last days of 29 away from me?
He knows I have been dreading turning 30 since my 24th birthday. I have been saying since then that I would have a hard time with 30. Hell, I was having a hard time with 30 when I was 24!
Maybe I thought I wouldn’t be happy where I was in my life. Maybe I thought I wouldn’t have accomplished anything. Maybe I thought I would have peaked and it would all be down hill after that.
But the more I sit and reflect on what turning 30 means, those thoughts are being pushed from my mind. I am in one of the best places in my life. I am happily married. I am the mom of two wonderful boys. I have a successful business.
Things truly have only just begun.
This is only the beginning of great things.