I turn 32 today.
I feel like I’m 8.
I act like I’m 12.
I’ve talked about this before, but it’s my birthday so I make the rules. When I was in first grade, we had journals that we were given a prompt to write about every day. Usually just a sentence or two and a small illustration. I remember one prompt being something like “what will you be doing when you’re 30?” My response was something like “I will be in my wheelchair, in the nursing home with my husband and we will have a limo.” Adorable. (You’ll have to believe me since I still can’t find the journal to include the page here.) I was fully convinced 1) 30 was ancient, 2) I’d be married and rich, and 3) although not mentioned, I remember thinking that all of my friends and I would live in the same nursing home so it would be just like school, except 30 and decrepit.
Well, two years past that 30 mark and I’m happy to say that I have no need for a wheelchair… yet. Talk to me at 35. I’m not married or rich, which I think would disappoint little Martina the most, and the closest I’m getting to living with any of my friends/classmates is that I live in the same neighborhood we did when we were in school that everyone moved away from and then back to.
It’s funny how at each stage of life you think about the future and what it will bring you. When you’re a kid, 16 is old, 25 is ancient and 30 is downright prehistoric. Now, I’m 8 years away from 40 and I still list boybands as my favorite genre of music. Yes, I’ve made it a genre. I have a whole Spotify playlist dedicated to them. No, I have no shame about it.
What I’m saying is, it goes fast.
A few weeks ago, I had started to write a whole emo post about how when I turned 30 life felt magical and how now, only (at that point almost) two years later, the magic was gone. It had left the building. sayonara, sucker. This summer has been rough. It’s felt like a whole lot of nothing, if I could be completely honest. No big trips, no new romances, my job is my job, a lot of blah. What makes it worse is that the coming Fall seems to be a lot of the same. What also makes it worse is that it feels like everywhere I look people are going and doing and hanging out without me.
I’m a hotbed of insecurity. I blame social media and my own anxieties. Also, a little bit of a gut feeling, you know?
Either way, I’m hoping 32 brings the magic back. Since I was a kid I’ve held 32 in very high regard. Don’t ask me why; once a little weirdo, always a little weirdo. It always felt like the perfect age. You’re a card carrying adult. You have your shit together. You’re probably married. Maybe have a couple of kids. At the least, you live on your own. At the VERY least, you have your own phone line in your room – WITH YOUR VERY OWN NUMBER AND ONE OF THOSE CLEAR PHONES.. Life is good. The world is your oyster.
Pause while I laugh maniacally.
Needless to say I am not describing myself. Not even the part about the phone line, sadly. Being a (technical) adult is hard when you don’t feel a day over 8. I remember when I started 5th grade, my first thought was “how are we in 5th grade? We’re too short to be in 5th grade. The 5th graders last year were much taller.” (they weren’t.) From then on, I never felt tall enough. Tall, of course, not always meaning tall.
I’m learning (but maybe not accepting) that it’s ok to not be “tall” enough. It’s ok to not be where you thought you’d be at this point. It’s a hard pill to swallow, but it’s ok. It will all be ok. So you’re not married. So you’re not doing the job you envisioned (is anyone, really?) So you don’t live your life like the cosmopolitan socialite you thought being an adult looked like. You have friends and family who love you. The job you do have affords some cool and fun things. Love will come. Marriage will come. The thing about life is that it’s constantly moving and changing and you never know what it has in store. Roll with it.
Since my last birthday I’ve lost about 50 pounds. I wasn’t going to bring up weight loss in this post but since it’s such a huge part of my life right now, and frankly, the only thing I’ve accomplished in a while, I couldn’t ignore it. Not only do I see a change in my body, but my whole attitude. Maybe it’s because when you look good you feel good. Maybe it’s because I feel less afraid to do things. Maybe it’s a little bit of that magic popping back in. In a weird way, things seem easier. Like I said in my last post, people seem to want to talk to me now. Maybe one of those people will be *~tHe OnE~* I’ve been waiting for. Ya feel me? I’ve learned more about myself since losing weight than I did in all the years I’ve lived before starting on the journey. That may also be a side effect of being in my thirties, but I digress.
Now, what’s a birthday without a wish? My wish this year is for the magic to come back. That’s the bottom line. But, if you’re looking to narrow it down, I’d have to say I wish for opportunity. Opportunity in love, in my career, in my hobbies/this blog (that I frequently neglect), to travel, to be able to say I’m 100+ pounds down. I also wish for health and happiness for not only myself but for the people I love. I always wish for this because without them, where would I be? And (arguably) most importantly, I wish for Harry Styles and Adele to release new music.
Happy Birthday you little weirdo.
Love you, mean it.