I am in the final hours of my twenties. It's very strange. Thirty. What does it mean to be thirty? Do I have to get an old lady haircut? Wear high-waisted jeans? Is there a manual somewhere?
Turning thirty has been a scary idea for me. I am not sure why, but after some thought today, I might be on to some ideas.
My twenties were all-in-all completely terrible. Of course there were highlights-- my two beautiful daughters were born while I was in my twenties, but other than that my twenties have been mostly a series of bad choices sprinkled with some really unpleasant times and every once in a while, something really fantastic would happen.
I am bound and determined to let the mistakes of my twenties allow me mass amounts of wisdom in my thirties. I mean, there has to be some sort growth that has come out of it, right? Right? No, actually, I am sure that there is. The lessons I have learned will pay off ten-fold, I am sure.