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Well, here we are folks.

 

The eve of my 30th birthday. The day that seemed so far off for so long. The age that kids say is “old” when you ask them. And the year that everyone makes sure you’re aware that you’re saying “bye bye” to your youth (insert eyeroll here).

And I get it, to a degree. Turning 30 does in fact seem to be the first year that I FEEL older. And while I'm pretty confident that my spider veins and wrinkles started showing up long before now, this is the first year I could draw you a literal map of where they are, and how they’re changing course seemingly daily. I’m having this realization that it’s true, I’m actually getting older. I’m not sure why it doesn’t happen before now, but this is the birthday where it really smacks you in the face, armed with a slower metabolism and an earlier bedtime.

 

But while this may be the first birthday that everyone seems to dread, I refuse to do so.

 

I refuse to be sad about getting older. I just won’t do it. Not when part of the deal of getting to walk this earth is getting older day by day, and there’s not a single thing we can do about it as long as we are here. Not to mention that there are parts of getting older that I don’t think are really so bad, and maybe even enjoyable.

You see it’s not that you’re getting “old”, so much as your interests are changing. For example, I used to be interested in going to bed at 2am, and sometimes I still am. But other times, 9pm sounds pretty fantastic. And you know what? I like it. I ENJOY putting on my flannel pajamas and sliding into bed at a reasonable hour. The second my head hits that pillow lately? Pure gold. And one day when I’m older and want to eat the early bird special at 4:30? I bet I’ll think that’s the bomb too.

 

 

Plus, as you get older, you care less in all the best ways, and become more confident in who you are.

 

I used to care so much about what people thought of me, and my insecurities haunted me daily. But I worked through so much of that in my awkward, painful, “wouldn’t care to repeat it” twenties (hence why I’m not so sad to say “peace out girl scout” to 2-0 through 2-9), and now I’m headed into my thirties more confident and secure than I’ve ever been. Certainly, I still have a ways to go, but I look forward to continuing to release myself from so much concern of what others think, and continue becoming an even better version of me in this next decade. (and also continuing to go to the grocery store in 15 year old sweatpants and not giving a flying hoot what anyone else thinks about it).

 

And finally, the last reason I refuse to be sad about 30?

 

It’s because I honestly can’t wait for this next decade. So much has happened in my life every year so far, some not so good things, but a lot of really great, wonderful things too. And I don’t believe that stops just because you’re getting older.

There are surprises and opportunities in store that I haven’t even, or couldn’t even, fathom yet. God has a plan for my life, and it isn’t done yet. And that’s true for all of us no matter how old we are. We don’t know what’s coming next, but it could be the best thing yet, and we have to get older to find out!

 

So no, I won’t be sad about turning 30.

 

In fact, I hope to never be sad about walking this earth for another year. I’m not just turning 30, I GET to turn 30. And I’m barreling into it with expectant anticipation of what’s to come, even if it comes with new twists and turns to add to my map of wrinkles and spider veins.

So watch out 30. I’m comin’ atcha. Let’s do it.