30 before THIRTY

Twenty-fifteen is the year that I'll turn 30 and I'm still not sure how I feel about this. There's something about the closing out of your twenties that is reminiscent of a child putting away their toys. There is no more time for childish things like dreams and procrastination. There is no more time to erase and rewrite-because from now on my plans will be written in ink. 

I feel like your twenties are the most special and complicated time of a persons life. Of course, my assessment of this statement is limited to the meager twenty-nine years I've been on this planet but regardless, it's been a complicated decade. 

I remember being sixteen and dreaming of a future that seemed so full of possibilities and full of perfections. By eighteen those dreams might not have panned out as perfectly as I'd hoped but the determination and confidence that they could had not waned. I was excited to reach my twenties, specifically 21. What's so special about that birthday anyway? I already had a key to the door. Of course, I was young, slim and already in love with the man I would one day marry. I felt like life wasn't perfect but I could still make my dreams come true.

I suppose the next big birthday was 25. Which I imagine to be the first slap in a six part series of birthday face slaps. 25-Slap. 30-Slap. 35-Slap. 40-Slap. 47-Slap. 50-Slap. After fifty, if my mother is anything to go by, you stop sweating the small stuff and start making up your own rules.  My twenty-fifth birthday however was the very best of my life thus far. I had my wonderful family, childhood friends, two birthday cakes and the man I loved. And lot's of alcohol. Still, despite being my favorite birthday, twenty-five starts the slap series because it blatantly reminds you that your twenties are half way over. And no, try as you might, you cannot turn it into a glass half full "you're only half way in" outlook.

Another reason twenty five is the first slap in the birthday series is because you'll quickly come to discover that your body doesn't quite recover the same way from alcohol. Long gone are the days of downing vodka red bulls whilst grinding with your girlfriends in your hooker heels. Only to wake up the next day, grab a McDonald's breakfast and head to your six hour shift in retail hell. No, twenty five is the year that your body turns on you. Starts to remind you that you're not going to be young and attractive forever.  You're as young as you feel becomes your daily mantra but you can't fight the hormones. The ones that make you go mushy inside when a baby locks eyes with you in the grocery store and you feel like he can see straight into your vacant womb and hear the cries of your aging unfertilized eggs. So being smart you fight the urge with a puppy and it works. For awhile. So you get a second puppy. And your family just start asking when the kids are going to arrive and then that friend casually whispers the words infertility & problems over lunch. And before you know it you're wondering how an accidental pregnancy hasn't happened in the last ten years...Okay, I cannot deny I was off on a tangent there for awhile. I apologize. 

The point. I don't know how I feel about turning thirty. I thought I could get excited by working on a thirty before thirty list but then I realized I'd just be left feeling disappointed and unaccomplished if I didn't complete it. And frankly, I've felt that way too much during my twenties. I'm also mourning the fact that it will be the first milestone birthday that I won't be able to spend with my best friends back in England. I have made some terrific friends here in Alabama but I just always assumed I'd spend my thirtieth birthday with the same ladies who helped me see in 16,18,21,25 and so many birthdays in between. I won't be there with them to celebrate on their days either.

My 25th birthday- starting the BBQ off right with some shots!

Shadi's 21st birthday.

Susana's 27th birthday.

Charlotte's 26th birthday.

My 21st birthday-three divas hogging the mic!

My 21st birthday- couldn't think of better girls to dance barefoot with!

2015 is going to be a tough year for me, both my parents turn 60. My nephew and eldest niece turn 10. These are all special birthdays that I won't be able to enjoy, not without some serious money and vacation time, neither of which I have. This year will likely be the year I sit down and consider applying for Naturalization but it's also the year that will likely cause me to question my move altogether. 

Whilst in a long distance relationship with the husband, I felt the overwhelming desire to be in two places at once. If only I could knit our two worlds together. Now that the husband and I are finally together, I still feel the same way for the people I love back home. I'm not sure it's a feeling that can ever be reconciled. 

Thriving in 2015

Fresh sheets on the bed. A towel warm from the dryer. The first crunch of Autumn leaves underfoot. All these things conjure the same feelings I get at the start of a New Year. It's comforting to think of it as a fresh start. The turn onto a blank page eagerly awaiting the tip of a sharpened pencil. Everything and anything seems possible and the good things I plan and hope for appear probable. We can simply shed the troubles of the previous year like a snake skin and take that first step on to just fallen snow, creating a brand new path for our lives. 

We make resolutions as if we really can determine the outcome of this year. Little decisions that if only we could follow through with, happiness would be sure to follow. All the while forgetting that it's not so easy to change our spots or stripes. 

I'm not sure at what point during the year that optimism dissipates but I find that it usually does. We come to discover that our baggage has been shipped to us with no return address. By the time December rolls around I'm ready to be done with the year and move on to the next. As if the closing of each year ushers in the start of a more promising chapter in my life. When in reality there is no more difference in December 31st becoming January 1st than there is Monday becoming Tuesday. There is no cosmic change. The sunsets, the sun rises and whilst we should all be glad to experience as many of those as possible, for some reason this event is given so much more fanfare simply because it's the last day of the year. 

I find that sometimes I'm trying to run away from the bad memories so fast that I not only forget about the good ones but neglect the fact that I made it through. The new year seems to promise me so much. I'm almost certain I'll come to find that in this brand spanking new year, the grass really is greener. And so I make these declarations of intent to loose weight, to better practice the often times impossible art of patience, to cherish my loved ones more...and the old classic; to blog often! 

I do appreciate this ridiculous optimism of mine, don't get me wrong. Were it not to exist, were I not to believe that better things were out there and possible, I probably would have laid down somewhere long ago and stayed down. There is a reason why most people don't know who or what a Chumbawamba is but their lyrics "I get knocked down but I get up again, you're not ever gonna keep me down" resonates to the base of humanity. We're nothing if not determined to not only survive but thrive. 

With this in mind, I enter 2015 perhaps a little more realistic than I have in previous years. Of course there are good things that I hope will happen in the coming year. Like visiting England, celebrating my 30th birthday, buying a new car, doing it with my husband until I get knocked up. And I know it's not possible to be prepared for the bad because I don't know what this year will bring. But I can feel confident that with every bad day, every disappointment, I grow a little bit stronger. I'll learn a little bit more about myself and what I'm capable of. 

Bring it on 2015.