I spent the last couple years of my twenties praying for the moment that I’d turn thirty. It’s like I genuinely thought being thirty somehow meant that “things would be easier” and yet they have. I was just happy to put my twenties behind me.
In Year One of my thirties, I’ve managed to begin eking out my way. Whereas my twenties felt like I was always fighting fire with gasoline, my thirties have found me thoughtfully, carefully making decisions, choosing the right way, and learning to become, well, me again.
Year One certain had it’s ups and downs and still, the down’s didn’t feel like they were the bottomless pit variety. The ups were even higher.
I have, in no small part, you, Pranksters, to thank for this. You’ve watched me fail, fall, and start again, cheering me on when I needed it and wiping my tears when things seemed insurmountable. You’ve been the one constant in my life and more than that, you became my family.
I cannot tell you how much that means nor can I thank you enough.
This year, I’ve watched my daughter lose her words, then find them again, and now, she spits them at me with a side of sass thrown in. Because she’s my girl.
My middle son has grown from a toddler to a child, all arms and legs and sweetness and light. Someone who hugs away my tears and makes me laugh from the bottom of my leg bones.
After so many years of believing that I was probably a child prodigy, I realize that the one who earns that title is my (almost) ten year old, the one who has found his way in his music.
This year, I founded not one but two group blogs (happy birthday to YOU, Mushroom Printing! who happened to be founded on my birthday last year).
Once I saw the need for a safe, moderated space on the Internet where we could share our secrets, reduce the stigmas of mental illness, abuse, rape and all the other skeletons in our closets, I created Band Back Together. I thanked my parents for the nursing texts as I began to create resource pages for the site. Now the site is a combination of knowledge and power, just like School House motherfucking Rock.
I created shirts (you should buy one. It’s my birthday, after all and you have to do what I say) and shattered my own expectations.
Today, Year One ends and I’m onto Year Two (I’ll be thirty-one). I’ll close this year out while gorging on tapas and drinking champagne.
I can hardly wait to see what happens next. Assuming it’s something good like a pony and not something shitty like a meat tornado.
Because nobody expects a meat tornado.