Thirty

 And so I turned 30.

 

A few years ago, I was convinced I wouldn’t make it to 30. It didn’t seem like I was destined to live a long life. And I didn’t want to. I have never really thought about my future. I never thought about life ten, fifteen or twenty years from now. I didn’t think about life post retirement. I never planned around old age, like some people seem to do.

The closer I got to my 30^th birthday, the more I realised that I was likely to make it to 40. It still felt far away, but it also felt like I would live to see another decade. Anyway, here I am, living the first day of my 30s.

Two people asked me this morning if it feels any different. Leaving my 20s, and welcoming my 30s. And I said it doesn’t. There’s no magical element to birthdays. You are still the same person, with the same problems or concerns and the same life. And while I do have those odd moments of realising that I am getting older, I’m actually looking forward to my 30s. I feel like life is getting more enjoyable the older I get. I’m more willing to break out of my safety zone, take chances, and just live life. I don’t know if I ever cared about what other people think or expect of me, but in the last few years at least, I haven’t really cared.

I’ve actually liked life these past few years. Today, pictures posted by three friends wishing me for my birthday reminded me of how good things have been, of how much love and joy I have felt, of the people I have met and loved.

And this is what I want for the rest of my life, regardless of how long it is. I could die tomorrow or I could live to a hundred, but I hope my every minute is full of love.

 

I’ve been dealing with some health issues, and friends, family, people ask me how I’ve gotten through it. Not just the physical aspects of illness, but the effect it has on your mental health, the never-ending thoughts of mortality (no, I’m not actively dying). And I’ve never had a proper answer, but I think what gets me through all this is the promise of the love and joy that awaits me. A countdown until I can see my favourite people, do my favourite things, get drunk and sing along to songs I don’t even know, stay up all night while on holiday. It’s this that has kept me going, even when it has all seemed so distant, even when it has felt like the world is moving forward without me.

 

Today, I thought: “What a blessing it is to have people I love and people who love me.” It seems like such an ordinary thing. Love. And yet, it feels like a gift, something not many are fortunate enough to have. The older we get, I feel, the quieter we let our love get. Words and gestures of affection are put on a shelf to collect dust. We allow love to be something understood and not expressed. And yet, here I am, turning 30, with a life that is neither a good one nor a shitty one, just an ordinary person, who gets to love people, gets to be loved by people, and not in that quiet way of a mutual understanding, but in a way that reminds me that regardless of what happens tomorrow or the day after or next week or next year; today, in this moment, I am alive.