In the early morning hours of November 29, 1977, I made my dramatic entrance into the world. As my mother would gladly explain, this is not an exaggeration–I crowned before my mom was even in the delivery room, which I’m told made for quite the entertaining birth.
In keeping with my current depressive episode I briefly considered titling this post “It’s my Birthday and I would Cry if I Could,” but the truth is that my brief escape to West Virginia was a much-need pick-me-up. It didn’t make my problems go away, but it gave me some time to forget about them. It’s impossible to be in a bad mood around my niece and nephew. Not to mention that the more time I spend with her, the more I can see my sister-in-law being a very fun partner in crime.
The truth is that today feels like any other regular day, and I like that. I remember the weeks leading up to my 30th birthday and how depressed I was. I even spent an entire weekend in bed moping about it. But then my 30th birthday came and went and I was fine. In fact, as I’ve moved through the years since then, I can honestly say that my 30s have been way better than my 20s. In that respect I guess I’m allowed to be a little sad that I’m officially closer to 40 than I am to 30. I feel like my 30s have been the time when I’ve finally started to discover myself and I feel like I still have so much more to learn.