One week from today, I will officially be 30 years old.
It sounds like I'm freaked out by it, and I guess I am, a little. I didn't think 30 would get here so quickly. 30 seemed so far off, even a couple of years ago. I'm mostly freaked by the fact that time has flown so quickly.
As for the actual number? I'm actually kinda happy with it.
I am (almost) 30. That means I'm officially an adult. No one can discount my thoughts or opinions just because I'm a "kid" anymore. 30 is like this magic number that everyone actually recognizes as 'adulthood'. It's nice, especially for someone like me. My mother always said I was "born 30 years old" - others told me I have an "old soul". Now, finally, I feel like I've grown into that, and like - finally - my same-age peers are on the same page.
No longer am I the "stick-in-the-mud" if I don't want to have a water-gun fight. No longer am I "putting on airs" when I use big words. No longer do people try to force me to try something I don't like or don't want to try. I have finally reached an age where people accept what I am.
Overall, though, I just feel good about my age. I've finally settled into my skin. I'm comfortable with myself and who I am (for the most part). Long gone are the years of trying to decide if I should try to fit in, the years of trying to decide exactly who I am. I am me. I have my faults, sure, but I've started to figure out what mine are, and what to do about them. I can finally look myself in the mirror, see the dark circles under my eyes and the mussy hair and smile, because they belong to me. I am a person who is loved, by my husband, my children, my family, my friends, my God - and finally, I have learned to love myself.
So, I say, "Welcome, Thirty. I've been waiting for you."