I almost can’t believe it. This morning, I woke up, and I was 30 years old. Thirty! How did this happen?!
It’s true that time flies when you’re having fun… And my life, from age 23, has been a complete blast. If you had told me, as a miserable 21 year old, that I would be celebrating my 30th birthday in New York City, with my husband and our dogs, I wouldn’t have believed you. And why would I? At the time, I was intent on creating chaos for myself, for dancing down a path of self-destruction and misery.
Of course, it sucked at the time. I wallowed in my misery and believed that I was going to be depressed forever. But I am so grateful for having gone through those times, because they gave me perspective. I know how dark things can get, and I also know that I have the strength, and more importantly, the tools, to pull through it.
That knowledge means more to me than any possession or achievement ever could.
And for the record, 30 doesn’t feel scary or “old” or bad in any way. Instead, I feel more like myself than ever… Which is pretty goddamn fabulous!
Birthday girl bisoux,