Musings on growing older
Today is my birthday (well it is at least here in Australia. Apparently I don't actually turn a year older until 7:48pm tonight. Time zones are weird). My 30th birthday. While I’m very very grateful for what I’ve done and who I’ve become it’s also not where I thought I’d be at 30. But then again, all through my life I’ve never been where I thought I would.
At 12 I thought that 16 would be the perfect age because I’d be older and mature and have a handsome, football playing boyfriend (Damn you Sweet Valley High!). At 16 I thought that 21 was going to be the best because I’d be in university and popular and clever, and that turned out to be a terrible year. 30 though? I guess I always thought that I’d have it all figured out. That I would be married with children and a house on a hill.
But the more I think about those things and the person that I am, the more I know that those don’t fit me right now, and maybe not ever. And maybe that’s ok. Maybe growing up isn’t as prescribed as it used to be where people just didn’t things because they should and because it was the next step. Maybe now it’s ok to really look at your life individually and know that everyone has different wants and needs at different times. Just because I’m not doing what my friends are or what my parents did doesn’t mean that either path is more or less valid. Maybe getting older is just learning how to be brave inside you own skin? If that’s the case then I gratefully wish myself Happy Birthday.