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In a month I will be 30…

Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter. Mark Twain

My twenties flew by. Riddled by the typical disasters of many some twenty-somethings, I’ve also experienced a few life changing situations. I was married and divorced by age 24, something I never imagined would happen to me. I moved to a new state, virtually alone, to encounter one of the most lonely trials of my life. I questioned why I believed in God and if I could continue to believe in Jesus. I made really dumb mistakes. I was stubborn and didn’t like receiving help. I did a lot of soul-searching, cried many nights in my closet, and stared into the stars on my tiny patio wondering what could possibly be around the corner of my seemingly train-wrecked life.
I volunteered to make up for losses. I tried running to relieve stress. I smoked cigarettes to stave off hunger and keep me feeling full of energy. I was once vegan and later Paleo. I accomplished 90 hours of hot yoga in sixty days, not skipping a day. I was a total mess. I was grasping at anything to make me feel better or feel full. I was lonely. And only 24. I never told anyone how much my heart ached.
Now I sit here, typing away, as I rapidly approach thirty years. Where did thirty years go? I have since gotten remarried and have had a child. I have been able to look back upon my messes and see the mistakes I have made, as well as lessons learned. I have learned that grace is real. I have learned to have gratitude for my journey, for it made me cling to my faith and become who I am. I have made real friends and have found a loving church family. 
I don’t feel like a thirty year old. I wonder if I will ever feel my age. Is there an age we all hold on to?
Sometimes I look at Lillian and I think, “when did this moment happen? When was the exact moment my heart fell so deeply in love with this little person who now fills most of my time and energy.” Just three years ago I had her. Where did time go?
The other night I was gazing at my husband. I could see a few more years on him. I loved it. The few grey strands that now salt his hair, and a couple creases around his eyes that appear when he smiles- more profound than the day I met him. I see it in my face, too. A little fatigue from less sleep, and a few more stretch marks around my thighs. 
My life has already marked me abundantly. I’ve got scars on my elbows from my childhood, scars from my teen years and dreadful acne, and now scars from childbirth. I’ve got the sweetest memories from climbing over school yard fences at funny hours, trying on caked-on makeup with friends, and holding my baby for the first time. 
I am ready for my thirties. 
I have finally stopped needing to wear makeup to the gym. I buy comfortable underwear now. I can usually let things go quicker and have less regrets. I worry less. I wear what I know looks good on me and not what is in style. I finally get along with my parents. I am more comfortable with myself now than ever. I am a better friend. 
Aging is scary but definitely awesome in many ways. I care less about dumb stuff that consumed my mind in my early twenties (do I look too hipster?), and more about things that matter, because honestly, I don’t care as much what I look like. 
Not sure if that is a good or bad thing for those around me, but I will take it. 
And maybe that is my favorite thing of all about elderly people. They stop caring as much about the little things (did I hear a fart?), they let it go. But they are usually up for a nice glass of wine and a good conversation about something meaningful. 
See you soon, thirty years! 
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