I just hit 30 a couple of weeks ago. I was... less than happy about it. Mostly because I feel like I've spent my entire 20s on medical leave. I'd have been okay, perhaps even happy, with 30 if I'd felt that I'd accomplished things - gotten closer to where I wanted to be in life.
So I took the weekend off from reality. Got together with a dear friend I don't see too often, checked into a nice hotel, told everyone else (family and friends) that I was going away and would be available for emergencies only, and just had fun. Toured around, saw some shows, explored parts of the city I'd hardly (if ever) seen, and thrived off my friend's wide-eyed, enthusiastic, fresh response to the city and its sights. Best birthday ever.
And now that I'm past it... I'm back into my old habits as if nothing happened. In the end, it's just a number. Another milestone. And it only means as much as you (choose to) let it mean.
