Posted by: Jennifer | September 26, 2009

the thirty-year blues

Tomorrow is my thirtieth birthday, and I’m planning on spending the day feeling sorry for myself.

My life could be a lot worse than it currently is. I may not have a permanent job, but I’m still working and bringing in rent money. I don’t have a significant other or kids, but I have cats that love me and I have both my parents and my sister and an extended family and friends that I wouldn’t trade for the world. I live in one of the least-desirable neighbourhoods in HRM, but I still have a roof over my head and food in my fridge and a slightly-battered-but-still-pretty car in my parking spot. I have intelligence and an opinion and a way to express both, even if I sometimes chose not to. I have creativity and a several outlets for it. I have opportunities and options that many people don’t have, and I try to appreciate that even though I sometimes take it for granted.

I know people who have had truly horrific birthdays. My mother’s father died a week before her thirtieth. The worst thing that I can say about my birthday is that I’m spending it alone, but even that is mostly by choice and not requirement. I don’t feel like I would be very good company though. I feel the need to wallow. I can’t seem to remember the good things about my life. Instead I’m stuck on the fact that I’m now a thirty-something and I have nothing that society at large deems to be “important”. I’m just existing, and I’m not even doing a good job of it. I want to cry and scream and think about all of the bad and none of the good. I’m depressed. And I’m also smart enough to know that I have no earthly reason to be.

So, here’s the plan. I’m going to get through tomorrow, and then I’m going to stop paying attention to things as stupid as my age and what society expects of me, and I’m going to start focusing on making improvements. If I’m unhappy with my life — and if I’m being honest, I’ll admit that this is not the life that I pictured for myself — then it’s time for me to get off the fucking soapbox and do something about it. I’m about to be 30 years old, and I have yet to make my mark on the world. It’s time to change that.

And the changing will start on Monday. I would start on my actual birthday, but I’m going to be too busy eating ice cream cake in my pj’s while watching a Kevin Smith marathon.

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Responses

  1. Happy Birthday! Don’t wallow too much. *HUGS*

  2. Happy Birthday, JennieK! 🙂 30’s not that bad–a bit overwhelming because it’s a round number, but not so terrible. 🙂 Particularly with Kevin Smith and some ice cream cake. 🙂


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