This past July, I turned 30. And it was just like any other day. We celebrated, of course. But…
Originally, I had thought I would have a problem with turning 30…mainly just because I thought I’d have to give up my big hairbows and chunky bead jewelry. It’s sometimes hard to be a woman…there are these “age-appropriate” items that you’re not supposed to wear after a certain age. Once I decided to just say “kiss my grits” to anyone that had a problem with my flamboyant accessories, I was perfectly fine. Sure, I was a little sad to say goodbye to my 20s: the trips at a moment’s notice, the frivolous spending, the selfish thinking… But, alas, I was being thrust forward, ever forward, down the road of life…and the next destination was the 30s…the true “settle down” years…better make the best of them…
What I was not prepared for is the incredibly weird place that I would find myself. Trying to put this into words has become rather difficult. I am oh-so-happy with my life. I love it. I truly do. If you were to ask me if I am content, I would say yes, for the most part.
However, the strangest feeling has come over me lately. Simply put, it is this overwhelming restlessness. Some mornings, on my way to work, I have the most overwhelming urge to just keep driving, and see where the road takes me. I have this desire to do something wild and crazy. And if we’re honest here, the hormones are no joke, y’all.
I laughably told my best friend the other night: “You may get an SOS from me. I may be drunk in Mexico. With a lover named Manuel. And I may have gotten a sleeve tattoo.”
It’s almost like I need to find balance between wild and crazy and stability and consistency. I don’t want to lead a boring life. I keep thinking “I’m not quite ready to be all settled yet…”
It is the craziest thing, y’all. I need to maybe make a bucket list, and try and figure out some outlets for all of this (waves hands crazily) whatever “this” is. Thoughts?
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