Life is funny. One day your 13 and your angry at the world for no reason at all and in the blink of an eye you're 30. Everyone tells you that life is going to fly by but you never truly understand 'till it starts happening.
I turn 30 in exactly one week. One fucking week. 7 days, 168 hours, 10080 minutes.
Up until about 25, I told myself I would turn 28 and stay 28 until I was 48 and then I'd be 38. Unfortunately, my gray hair and metabolism decided otherwise. So here I am at 29.93 years old.
I've heard life changes at 30. You stop caring about every single thing. You're in your prime, blah blah blah. I've never even thought of what my "prime" might look like. I mean, my 20's were pretty damn good for the most part.
An old friend of mine lived her life based on Sex and the City. Not always her best idea, but hey, who was I to judge? I had never seen it and definitely didn’t understand the big deal. But one lonely weekend, after a breakup, I decided I’d finally see what all the fuss was about.
These ladies were going to show 25 year old Allison what was to come. What her life was going to be like after 30, when she's in her "prime." Sex and the City was relatable. Women looking for their soulmates?! Hi, welcome to my life.
At 13, I knew I had my life planned out. Start dating someone at 19, engaged by 21. Married at 22, buy a house at 23, start having kids at 24. And live happily ever after.
But at 25, I was wondering why I wasn’t (still) married? Why didn't I have kids? Why I was in debt, and not the kind that included a house with a yard?
Sex and the City didn't give me the epiphany I was hoping for. These girls were just as fucked up as I was.
I started re-watching Sex and the City about a week ago. Just because I was 5 years older, didn’t mean I couldn’t still relate.
I'm on the episode where Carrie turns 35. She's sitting at a table waiting for her 9 friends to show up. After an hour, she’s still alone at the restaurant. No one had shown up and she is forced to give up her table. She goes home to shower and her friends come to take her to their favorite diner for birthday cake. It was the least they could do since they all missed her dinner.
Carrie was crying to her friends about how alone she felt turning 35 and not having anyone show up to her birthday party. Isn't that we're all scared of? That as we age, no one will be there for us when we really need them? I realized that being alone has been my greatest fear for most of my life. Call it daddy issues or abandonment issues. Or maybe just fear of not being loved. But sitting at a table for 10 and having no one show up terrifies me. Being vulnerable and not having someone show up terrifies me. And I think each year that feeling amplifies a bit more.
Now if you know me, you know I love birthdays. I love my birthday, my friends birthdays and even strangers birthdays. It’s the one day of the year you get to celebrate yourself and no one can say shit about it. If my friend doesn’t have plans for their birthday, I make 'em. If they want to rage all weekend, I order the tequila shots.
I had asked my boyfriend if I could use his house/pool for my party and he obliged. But when he took it upon himself to start planning my 30th birthday party I was not only ecstatic but also a bit in awe. He hates birthdays, but likes me enough to plan mine.
At the end of the episode Mr. Big, Carrie's on and off again boyfriend, shows up with balloons and champagne. And I realized that's what we all want. Is just someone to show up for us. Someone who chooses us. Whether it be friends, lovers or even just acquaintances. Someone who celebrates the small things and the major milestones. My boyfriend had just become my Mr. Big.
I still think of myself as the curly haired girl who used a tub of gel and mousse a day to tame her 'fro.
The girl whose first kiss was during a game of truth or dare.
The girl who planned huge birthday parties but only her 3 best friends showed up.
Now, at (almost) 30, I’m still not married. I don’t have kids (and don’t want them anytime soon.) And I’m still in debt and not the kind that includes a house.
But I'm finally okay with it. I like being that young curly haired girl with only 3 friends at her birthday party. The one with the daddy issues and self worth issues. Because I'm now the curly haired woman who loves herself. Whose overcoming her issues and labels she has given herself. I'm the curly haired woman entering her "prime."
Now I can not give a fuck (not that I did before) and it's okay because I'm 30 ;) I finally feel like I've (almost) got it all. I have people who show up for me.
At (almost) 30 I feel like my life is just starting. I’m happy. Probably happier than I’ve ever been. I’m not scared of growing old, not in the slightest, because that means I’ve lived.