On 30

Oh.

Well.

Hello there, 30.

You kinda snuck up on me, didn't you?

That's okay. I've been waiting for you for a long time.

Oddly, I've had mixed feelings of eagerness and anticipation to turn 30 years old. It's been a while since I've had a milestone birthday, but here we are. So let's read a short story, shall we?

Once upon a time, 16 year old me was introduced to the oh-so-sexy Mark Ruffalo in a movie called "13 Going on 30."  From this Rom-Com classic, I learned that 30 isn't so bad! You can totally be thirty, flirty and thriving and really have all your shit together, even if it doesn't always feel like it.

And you know what?

I am 30 (today) and flirty (to mah hubs anyway) and thriving. I most certainly am thriving.

I was just telling Daniel the other day how life has been really good to me. Ask me on a bad mental health day and I will swear up and down I never said that. But it has been. I'm healthy. I've got all my needs met, most of my wants. I have the two best kiddos ever. I'm married to the coolest best friend a girl could ask for and I have a lot of people in my life who love and support me.

I've lost a lot of friends over the years. You know, as life takes you apart from those you once loved and cared about and shared so many interests, fun times and inside jokes. It's wild to think back to when turning 30 seemed so far away in the general scope of my life, how much has changed since then. So many different people are in that close space I reserve for those who mean the most to me. But so many are the same. My mom. (Thanks for giving me life, ma!) My dad. (Thanks to you too, dad. Guess you helped a little with the life thing.) and my siblings. But now I am so lucky to include their significant others and offspring (some with fur, some not) into that close space now too.

I've cut a lot of people out of that space over the years. And some have cut me out of theirs.

The best and absolutely most significant part about turning 30 years old is that I can say with 100 percent honesty is that I've never felt so confident and sure of myself in my entire life. My teen years were rough, ya'll. I'm sure some of you can relate. I was awkward and chubby and bullied and had terrible self-esteem. I worked too hard and didn't enjoy life enough. I was too hard on myself, too mean. My heart breaks a little bit for that girl I used to be.

And then I got into my 20s. The early part of that decade was awful. So freaking terribly awful. But then it started to get better and better, and then a little worse, but even better yet again after that. Life is a roller coaster and that is a cliche phrase for a reason.

29, you were one of the harder ones I've had yet. Not bad. Not terrible. Just hard. Lots of growth happened this year. I learned so much about myself, my life and what I hope for myself going forward.

I'm grateful for all of the experiences I've had. Even the wretched, horrible, nightmare ones. Because without them, I wouldn't be me. And I really like me, 30 years old, a few more fine lines, wrinkles, gray hairs...but I feel more beautiful in my own skin than I ever have. It took me 30 years to really, truly love myself. Flaws and all. Inside and outside. But here were are.

So let's wrap these ramblings of a blog post with a little gratitude. Thanks so much for all the birthday wishes. Thanks to all of you who have always been there for me, supported me, made an effort to be in my life and my kids' lives. Thank you to everyone who puts up with my overshares, selfies and too-many political posts on social media.

But most of all, thank you to those who love me. And work hard to make sure I know you love me. Those acts do not go unnoticed even if I sometimes take them for granted. I am incredibly lucky to have you all in my life.

Thank you.