Make no mistake-I am grateful. No one loves me more than me (Trust me there) so I don't wanna kick it for a good long while.
But let's get this straight: I'm grateful for LIFE, not for age.
I cannot shake the fact that I'm going to be THIRTY-FRICKIN-ONE years old. It just sounds... ancient! I'm not sure WHY it's bothering me so bad (Yes I am. My gotdang vanity, but I'm trying to come up with some noble reasons here) I know that every birthday since my 21st has been met with AWFUL trepidation.
I had a meltdown on my 23rd birthday. A full blown, all out, no holds barred MELTDOWN. I was inconsolable for a day and a half.
Mandy Smith: Hatin' on her birthday since 2003!
I have no logical reasoning for any of this. I'm happily divorced (Y'all know we're way happier now than we were when we were married), I've had a kid- with no plans for another- I've got a college degree and a career. I've got a house, a nice car, money in the bank, a best friend that I visit almost whenever I want. I've got... well, we'll just call it a "distraction"(or a twatwaffle. Whatever.) for when I decide I wanna daydream. Hells bells I even got a 401k with thousands of dollars in it.
Wanna hear the funny part? (Also known as irony) I have more money now, less stress, I LOOK better physically (True story- I was, like a size 10 when I was 23), I FEEL better mentally (except for this whole birthday BS) and overall I'm WAY better off.
Have I mentioned I'm a walking contradiction?
There's nothing I can do. I can't stop Saturday from getting here... I can't stop the numbers from ticking up, up and away.
Clearly I can't stop the blind panic that seems to get exponentially stronger every year.
Anyways. There's really no point to this post. The title says it all: "It's (almost) my birthday and I'll bitch if I want to"
Hugs to all of you for hearing me out. XOXO
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