I've been thirty years old for about 16 days now. I slid into my thirtieth birthday quietly. It was like slipping my foot into a fine leather shoe. It went in smooth and comfortably. Ahhhhhh.
I've worn it around town, through the country and I have to say in some rough parts of the city. And you know what? I like it.
Yes, after only 16 days I have put many many miles on "30" and it has worn nicely. No real blisters yet.
In 16 short days I have thrown caution to the wind. Wear that new shirt that makes me look pregnant? Heck yeah. I'm thirty so who cares if people think I'm pregnant when I'm not.
Buy those cute wedges even though I really wanted a closed toe? Yes, please. I'm thirty and I should really stop obsessing about how ugly my feet are. If somebody doesn't like my long skinny toes, who cares! I'm thirty!
We went to a picnic with some of my step-dad's friends. I happen to think they are quite snooty so I spent the evening sitting outside the circle catching up with my husband. And did they think I was snooty? I'm sure. But I'm thirty years old now and if I want to act like a snob I'm going to and not care what they think about me.
I've also looked deep inside myself. I need to figure out why I am who I am. Why I do things I do and think things I think. I need to know who I am. Not who I am in other people's eyes. Who I am. Period.
Not fun people. While I have enjoyed the freedom that has come being thirty, it has kicked my butt. I'm asking questions that I have been scared to ask. I'm coming to realizations that are devastating to me.
On top of this soul searching, I am missing my husband, very over-tired and pre-premenstrual. Not a good combo.
I could really use some prayers for wisdom. Thank you.
Updated: I just realized that I intended for this post to be happy and upbeat. I wanted to let you know how much I am enjoying this new chapter of my life. But somehow it ended up making me feel hurt and lost. I am growing and it hurts. I hope you saw my heart in this post.