Turning 30.

In a few days, I’ll be turning 30 years old.

It’s a milestone for sure, one that on TV we’re often shown the characters in mourning. Like that episode of Friends where Joey cries, “Why God Why?”, Phoebe finds out she’s actually 31, and Rachel has a crisis. We’re told that getting older is something we should be ashamed of. That it’s a problem we need to fix.

To be honest, I haven’t been able to give any of it much thought - what this ‘getting older’ really means. The last month and a half have been so insanely busy and stressful, with tight deadlines, demanding projects, and family health issues taking up most of my mental and emotional space. I haven’t had a chance to stop and really breathe, telling myself I have a looooong ways to go before my birthday.

But, as it does, time zips past like the Tasmanian Devil, and now my birthday is just around the corner. 

Why, Time, why???

This morning after brushing my teeth and before mindlessly going about my routine, I stood in front of the mirror. I saw the tiredness on my face, the bags under my eyes, the pockmarks and dings and dents on my cheeks that weren’t there before. I saw myself all banged up, I guess you could say. Older. 

But I also saw something else. 

I remember when I turned 25 a few years ago, I was in a corporate job I didn’t love. I was jaded, realizing adulting only sounded fun when you were 20. Feeling like my life was atrophying and getting smaller. Like my brain was shrinking from lack of use. 

I realize now I was going through some form of depression, if the mornings when I just lay in bed and cried were any indication. I turned 25 and felt angry. I didn’t want to celebrate my birthday. I told J I didn’t want any gifts. Basically, I was a huge pain in the ass (but J stuck around, bless his soul).

It was that same year that J and I both chose to quit our jobs and start our own business, embarking on a journey that has been every bit as hard as it has been joyful. This business has definitely added to the lines on my face; the wrinkles that now form around my nose when I smile.

I would be lying if I said everyday these last five years as entrepreneurs was a joy. They were hard. Everyday was a choice that couldn’t be made for me. I had to choose it. I had to will it to come to life. 

And I guess that space between choosing and living is where the difference lies.

So many of us just ride the wave, allowing others to dictate our priorities and make our to-do lists. We rush off to the next thing - the next day of work, the next meeting, the next deadline, and even the next goal. 

We zip around mindlessly, prisoners of circumstance, instead of willfully choosing our lives for us. So time passes us by as quickly as we pass by our days. And before you know it, it’s your birthday again.

So this morning, I chose to take a moment. I reminded myself of the choices I made to get where I am. I reminded myself that I’ve only arrived because I steered my path here, holding on tight when luck and fortune decided to give me a push. It was a good reminder of something I’d vaguely forgotten. 

I recently finished the book Chop Suey Nation by Chinese-Canadian author Ann Hui. She and her partner travel across the country, interviewing the owners of chop suey restaurants in small towns to understand their stories and what brought them there. Many of them struggle with racism, poverty, and loneliness. But one of the women she quotes had said, “Life is made up of many decades.” 

I think of what that means: Life is made up of many decades. That there are so many years that have yet to unfold; so many surprising joys and hardships and lessons. How beautiful is that? 

So today, looking in the mirror, I felt joy. I felt awe that I was there, still standing. I may be all dinged up, but I’m still me; just older, wiser, and much more grateful.

Happy birthday to me.