That’s right. I’m aging. I’ll admit it.
Tomorrow is my thirty-FOURTH birthday, meaning I’ll be undeniably in my mid-thirties.
Besides finding this unacceptable given my current state of adolescent behaviour, I’ve been reflecting on some of my key accomplishments and failures.
Some letters after this old name of mine. I don’t think it’s a mistake that BAHJD sounds a lot like BAD.
This might actually an accomplishment, but most lawyers aren’t blogging from the bathtub at noon on a Wednesday.
Almost finished my second novel. This one I’m actually pretty proud of, even if I never get published. Writing has been the best discovery of my thirties.
Thinking that writing a novel made me special. According to the Association of Canadian Publishers, there are over 10,000 books published in Canada every year. In the US, over 1 million books were self-published in 2017.
That’s some pretty steep competition and evidence that #everyone is #amwriting.
Continuing to write despite gloomy prospect of becoming a rich, famous writer.
Because let’s be real, millennials aren’t supposed to do things that don’t attract praise and entitlement.
Still caring about praise and entitlement. Wanna guess how many twitter followers I have?
Surrounding myself with some damn high quality people.
Because there’s always a choice, and smart, interesting and nice humans aren’t always who we choose.
Moving cities every five minutes and not keeping in touch with everyone. I still love you even if I only send you 1 meme every six months.
Surrounding myself with beautiful things that bring me joy (#mariekondowouldbeproud).
Needing to surround myself with THINGS.
Being able to give myself a break.
I’ll admit I had a self-imposed deadline for certain things to happen in my life, and that deadline has passed. Sometimes I worry that I need to hurry up or I’ll miss out.
The reality is that I believe things will happen however they happen, and accepting that inevitability opens your mind and heart for positive experiences. There is no “missing out”, only an alternate path, which will have its own happy surprises.
I am filled with gratitude (when I’m not wallowing in existential anxiety, that is) for the many, many advantages and luxuries I have, including a lot of love.
I think I’ll end with an accomplishment, so I’ll refrain from the long list of possible entries I could add here.
So there you have it. I have a lot to show for my 34 years, and a lot more to experience over the next 34. Unless I drunkenly fall off a rooftop patio at my birthday party.