I’m thirty now. Thirty sounds funny. Thirty, thirty, thirty.

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So I turned 30 on Saturday and not a day too soon. My twenties were good, don’t get me wrong. But my thirties–well, my thirties are frickin’ awesome! Let’s travel back in time together [insert whirly timewarp music] to recap why the first 48 hours of my thirties rule.I started my thirties with chocolate chip pancakes and breakfast sausage (the best way to start any decade in one’s life), all made by Jenn, my very own personal chef. Then, after my stomach was nice and full of these wonderfully heavy foods, we were off to Atmosphair for my birthday skydive! When we arrived at the hangar, my mom and Dan (stepdad) were there to surprise us, coffees, camera, and Mylar birthday balloon with giant Mylar rainbow protruding from one side in tow.

I jumped with Bill this time around. Bill is one of my favorite people in the world, the perfect amalgam of old soul depth and childlike whimsy. We ascended to the customary 12,000 feet, this time planning to pop the chute a couple thousand feet higher than usual. (This means a shorter freefall and a longer parachute ride–my ideal skydiving experience.) As we pushed off from the doorway of the plane, Bill somersaulted us–something we had not planned together–so that we were falling on our backs for two seconds. Falling away from the underbelly of a plane is not an indelible sensation, I’ll tell you what. The parachute ride down was, well, it was FUN. Pure, uninhibited fun. We looped. We twirled. We flashed the people below us. It was brilliant. So brilliant that I didn’t even mind landing on my ass with Bill’s knees in my back and grass stains on my elbows. All in all, an excellent experience.

Jenn and I went home from Atmosphair and napped for a length of time that seemed both too long and not long enough. When we woke up, we ate brownies while watching Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Later that night was shopping for electronics and time with friends. And none of this is to mention the many colorful versions of Happy Birthday To You I received via voicemail throughout the day.

Sunday involved cleaning toilets, doing laundry, and reading a rather dense chapter on Social Anxiety Disorder for class. I know what you’re thinking. Sunday negates Saturday tenfold and, therefore, my thirties can’t possibly be frickin’ awesome.

But they are frickin’ awesome. In my thirties, I’m no longer hopskotching from one low-paying, ill-fitted job to another. In my thirties, I’m learning how to be a counselor, a low-paying profession that honors my abilities while captivating my heart and mind. In my thirties, I’m not floundering from boy to straight girl to boy to straight girl again, my heart a pulped sack of rejection, inauthenticity, and fear. No sir. In my thirties, I have a beautiful, intelligent, hilarious life partner with whom I will raise kids, buy gear for our myriad hobbies, and grow old. In my thirties, my family isn’t a broken rock band throwing tambourines at each other over slopping mugs of malt liquor. In my thirties, my family is the nebulous of stability and laughter that I need them to be in my life. And in my thirties, my friendships don’t spasm into episodes of crazymaking. In my thirties, my friendships are solid and unmoving, much like the chocolate chip pancakes that started it all.

And now, here’s a picture of me & Bill, coming in for our landing. Watch out, thirties! My ass is about to land on you!

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Filed under awareness, birthday, peace, reflection, skydiving