Note #204 // So, I turned 30...

Well, it happened. I turned 30 a few weeks ago. 

And guess what? The skies didn't cave in, and the seas didn't part. In fact, the day itself was pretty uneventful. But had you tried to tell me this in July, there's no way I'd have believed that everything was going to be okay. I guess it's just something that you have to go through yourself. 

I had a bloody awesome summer. I went away with girlfriends, had way too many meals out (and way too much prosecco) and shared some wonderful moments with close family and friends. 

I was kind of content with not doing anything - I hate planning birthday celebrations for myself - I cripple myself with worry: will anyone turn up? Will they like the food? Will my different pockets of friends get on with one another? Is it too expensive, too far, too cold, too hot? So I just settled with my holiday to Marbella being my birthday thing. I didn't long for any massive celebration, I wasn't just saying it as some sort of self-deprecating vanity act, which is why I thought nothing of it when Ben mentioned we'd go for drinks in Shoreditch the Saturday after my birthday. 

I thought nothing of it when he said, 'let's go to Bird for some doughnuts before we go for drinks.' Greedy little one that I am, I was just like: "yay - sugar!" 

We arrived, went downstairs and I saw two people with their backs to us. "Isn't that Jeff and Becca? What are they doing here?" Cue me walking into the room to be greeted by fourteen of my friends and family ready and waiting to surprise me - all put together over the previous five weeks by the man standing behind me. 

I promptly burst into tears and ran into the bathroom. 

Ben didn't understand why I cried. 
Let me tell you some of the loopy thoughts that cross my mind, then it should make sense. There are a lot of birthdays around the same time as me. And as I was scrolling through Facebook taking in the amalgam of said birthdays, I would stop and read the most amazing testimonies of friendship, character and love about people. And I sat there and thought: "no one will ever say anything like that about me. Why would they? I don't do half as much as x. I'm not selfless like y." 

I'm the person that goes to celebrations for the wonderful people I know. There's no resentment, I just don't see myself as special enough to warrant all that effort and attention. I don't do enough for people. I'm crap at replying to What's App messages. I don't see my friends as often as I should. And yet, there they were. Cue swollen heart and happy puffy eyes. 

So the moral of this tale? Fuck thirty - life goes on. You'll get older and continue to pretend you've got life on lock, while wigging out on the inside that everyone has sussed how out of your depth you are with the whole adult thing. 

You'll have shitty days that you remedy with takeaways and wine. You may not have a car, own a home and in my case, may not look your age, but if you have spent your time with people, building a kick-ass support network of family and friends, then that my friends, is something to be immensely proud of. 

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