So on Sunday at 4:01pm I will have been on this earth for a grand total of 30 years. I’ll admit I have made a bigger deal out of it than I should have the last few weeks and I’m not sure why. In general our society seems to put emphasis on certain ages: 16, 21, 30, 50. And this is one of the big ones. I guess because it should mean that you are really an adult. But I think with this birthday there is a lot of pressure; pressure to have become what you wanted to become and to have accomplished certain goals. I certainly have not done what I thought I would do by this age, but happily I have done a lot of things that I never thought I would.
In my 16-year-old mind I thought that at age 30 I would be a PhD-holding, lecture-giving professor with at least one novel under her belt. I expected to have traveled Europe and Asia and to have had relationships to tell tales about. I thought that I would be the superwoman of the 21st century. Getting married and having kids was not a priority for me.
But then when I was 18 I met this guy, fell madly in love, and my life took a different track. With him I found that I wanted to get married and I desperately wanted to have a child (years later of course). And now I have and I feel good about the wife and the mother that I am. I have been to Asia and to Europe, but I would call those trips, not travels. My marriage is really the only relationship I’ve had, but someday I promise to write tales about it.
I have lived in New York City for almost 8 years and have lived through unemployment, 9/11, the blackout, 6 years in a 6th floor walk-up, the death of my father, marrying my best friend, nearly 7 years at the same company, 9 months of pregnancy, 14.5 hours of labor, 1.5 hours of pushing, and now 14.5 months of the life of my favorite person, my little boy.
This is so cliche and so annoying and really pains me to write, but it is fact. The only thing that really bothers me is that I have yet to have a piece of my writing published. It has been my goal since I first learned to read to become a writer and if you listen to my husband I am a writer because, of course, I write. And I suppose that he is correct in that. But I want to be a published, accomplished, even celebrated writer.
So this is my goal for the next 30 years. I WILL become a writer – an accomplished, published, even celebrated writer – and I’m starting right now.
Edited to add –
Oh and I just wanted to add a big THANK YOU to my mom for giving birth to me. I know what it’s like now and I think a little appreciation on this occasion is much deserved. Thank you, Mummy, for giving birth to me, taking care of me, raising me right, and helping me become the person I am 30 years later. I love you.