The Five Stages of Becoming 30

As the big three-oh got closer and closer, I felt a variety of emotions.  During a conversation with Kenny yesterday, an invisible light bulb went off over his head.  The stuff that I’ve been feeling isn’t just crazy emotions.  I’m actually going through the five stages of grief.

1) Denial – Denial is a conscious or unconscious refusal to accept facts, information, reality, etc., relating to the situation concerned. It’s a defense mechanism.

I spent most of the year here.  If I don’t talk about it, it isn’t happening.  If I don’t finalize birthday celebrations plans with my mother, it can’t happen.  I spent two weeks writing the blog that I posted yesterday because I was having trouble finishing it.  If I don’t finish the blog, the day won’t come.

2) Anger – Anger can manifest in different ways. People dealing with emotional upset can be angry with themselves, and/or with others, especially those close to them.

I don’t know much about this stage.  I guess I might have been crankier than normal??  I don’t know, you’ll have to talk to Kenny about that.  (Although, I’m sure he’ll say that I’ve been an angel.)

3) Bargaining – Bargaining involves the hope that the individual can somehow postpone or delay the issue.

This, for me, went hand in hand with the denial.  By not talking about it or preparing for it I was sort of bargaining with it not to happen.

4) Depression – It’s a sort of acceptance with emotional attachment. It’s natural to feel sadness and regret, fear, uncertainty, etc. It shows that the person has at least begun to accept the reality.

I’ve spent the last 2 weeks here.  Just moping around like those sad little wind-up toys on that commercial about depression.  And for the first few days I couldn’t figure out why I was so bummed out.

5) Acceptance – Again this stage definitely varies according to the person’s situation, although broadly it is an indication that there is some emotional detachment and objectivity.

I think I arrived here yesterday.  While I do feel the occasional pang of depression or twinge of wanting to run and hide in denial, I feel good for the most part.  30 is here to stay whether I like it or not.  Plus, I hear that the 30s are a pretty awesome place to be.  So, I might as well enjoy it, right?  Here goes nothin’!

This Day In History, March 17

First day home.

1981:  12:02pm, It’s a girl!!  5 pounds 12 ounces, 19 inches long with a head full of thick dark hair and bright blue eyes, I was born.  Unfortunately, I don’t know much else.  If you don’t know my story or would like to read it again, you can read it here.  For the first 10 days of my life, I was in foster care, as mandated by Georgia adoption law.  (At least that was the law in 1981, I have no idea if it’s changed since then.)  Mama and Daddy have never met the foster family that cared for me during that time, but Mama said that I was dressed in a brand new sweet dress and it was obvious that I was well cared for.

15 month old gamer. Check out that Atari joystick!!

5 years old.

1986:  5 years old.  My parents made sure that my siblings and I had a wonderful childhood.  I was the oldest of 3 and we were living in the house that I grew up in.  I didn’t know loss or disappointment yet.  I was carefree and happy.  Life was simply awesome.

10 years old.

1991:  10 years old.  I wasn’t into sports.  I tried dancing and it didn’t work out for me.  But music.  Ah, music is where I belonged.  I was in choirs and taking piano lessons.  After a vision screening at school it was recommended that I see an eye doctor.  As a result, I got my first pair of glasses.  I also began to get a taste of the bitterness of real life.  My best friend’s family moved out of state.  I was heartbroken.  I got my first crush and subsequently my first little boyfriend.  I don’t know what it was about that red-headed boy, he was just so cute!!  I also learned about true loss when a childhood friend passed away due to complications from surgery to try and repair a heart defect.  My parents thought I was too young to go to his funeral.  I’m sure that they were right but I hate that I was never truly able to say goodbye and I think of his family often.

15 years old.

1996:  15 years old.  I was ready to take on the world.  I wanted so badly to be an adult.  I was itching to learn how to drive and my parents bought me my first car.  They wanted a cheap, old car.  In the interest of safety, it was a tank.  Literally.  It was a 2 door, faded yellow interior and exterior 1980 Plymouth Volare.  All metal.  There was no fiberglass to be found.  Sweet ride, right?   I am very short, my dad is very tall, and the car had a bench seat.  Which means that when my dad taught me how to drive, he got to sit in the passenger seat with his knees in his chest.  Comfy.  Unfortunately we learned that year that you get what you pay for.  We were never truly able to get the car running correctly.  I was also itching to date.  I wasn’t allowed to be on a one-on-one date with a boy until I was 16, but at 15 I was granted the privilege of double dating.  I had big plans for my life.  I created a time-line for the next 15 years.  Fortunately for me, I didn’t hit any of the marks on that time-line.  It was seriously unrealistic.  (Cue Garth Brooks’ “Unanswered Prayers”.)  I was still in several choirs and playing flute in the marching band.  Sadly, I had an accident that year that resulted in surgery on both of my knees.  I was out of commission for a while and my knees have never quite been the same.

20 years old.

2001:  20 years old.  After a failed attempt at living by myself, I was living at home with my parents.  Unfortunately I thought that since I was legally an adult, that I should be treated as such.  I thought I knew everything that there was to know about life.  My parents knew, however, that I had not yet developed my adult brain and was still really immature, and so as long as I was living in their house I had to abide by their rules.  As a result, we didn’t get along very well and it was really tense at home.  So, I found a roommate and moved 2 hours away to Columbus.  I found that my relationship with my parents improved.  I wish I hadn’t been so bull-headed and I wish that it hadn’t taken that distance to make things better.  I stood by and watched a friend make a life-changing decision.  I didn’t take a stand or voice my opinion because I was more concerned with keeping a friend than I was the fallout of this decision.  I’ve regretted that for a long time and it is especially sad because our friendship ended up fizzling out over the years anyway.  A boy seriously broke my heart that year.  It was first time my heart had really, really been broken.  It was the type of broken that took years to completely heal.  I had my first (and second, after I moved to Columbus) real full-time job that year.  As the year went on, I learned how to stand on my own 2 feet and take care of myself.

25 years old.

2006:  25 years old.  Successfully living by myself for several years, I was engaged to the man of my dreams and married him in June of that year (and as Monica tearfully said on Friends, I had to live with a boy!!).  I had just left 911 and was starting a brand new job.  I had recently bought my very first brand new car.  My adult brain turned on this year and I realized that I didn’t actually know everything.  And that was scary.

30 years old.

2011:  Today I am 30 years old.  I’ve been spending this year trying to prepare myself for this day.  For the most part I’ve been indifferent about it.  It’s just a number right?  But over the past couple of weeks I’ve felt an extreme sadness that I can’t explain.  And I’ve gone out of my way to not talk about it.  If it comes up in conversation, I change the subject.  I’ve just sortof been hoping that this day would come and go just like any other.  Last week my mother sent me several emails to try and plan a birthday lunch for the family and I ignored them.  If I don’t acknowledge it, it doesn’t exist.  Right??  I don’t know what my problem is.

Lately I’ve been thinking about that time-line that 15-year old Joy made up.  It didn’t go past 30.  I’ve been trying to rationalize why.  I knew life wouldn’t just end at 30, so maybe I assumed that I’d have it all figured out by now.  I definitely don’t have it all figured out and I’ve come to the realization that there’s a good chance that I never will.  And that’s a little terrifying.

[deep breath]

What I do know is that I’m happily married for almost 5 years.  Kenny and I are settled with great jobs, a cute house, and a precious little dog.  Life is good.  I’m still at the job I got in 2006.  I’m happy here and, if I do say so myself, I’m good at what I do.

I don’t know where my life is going to go from here.  But I feel the winds of change starting to blow in and hopefully some truly amazing things are on the horizon.

A Very Merry Unbirthday To Me

As of today it is exactly 6 months until I turn 30.  I found this article on The Frisky a few weeks ago about 30 things every woman should stop doing by the time that she is 30.  I agree with almost all of them.  Rather than reposting the entire article, I’ve chosen just a few to comment on.

1.  Buying clothes from the junior section.
I totally agree.  However.  I find that I’m in a weird fashion age.  Junior is too young.  Woman is too old.

6.  Carrying a torch for anyone she hasn’t seen in the last five years.
Romantically?  No.  But I do miss friendships that have faded over the years.

15.  Calling her father “daddy.”
I’m a southern girl.  We all call our fathers daddy.  My mother is my mama and my father is my daddy.  Always have been.  Always will be.  The rest of y’all can get over it.  :P

21.  Using MySpace to pick up guys.
Who still uses MySpace?

26.  Measuring her self-worth by a number on the scale.
I probably have the hardest time with this one.  I’ve always had an issue with my self-image.  But I do find that the older I get, the less I care what other people think about me.

On The Road to 30

I am, and for the most part always have been, one of the youngest of whatever circle of friends I’m in.  Looking back, I think it started in high school.

As a result, most of my friends reached major milestones before I did.  Age 16 with their driver’s licenses before me, 18 and graduated, 21 and “legal”…  Well, we’re rapidly approaching another milestone.  The Big Three-Oh.

My husband turned 30 a couple of weeks ago and several of our friends have already hit the 30 mark.  Several more will hit it before it’s my turn next March.

Everyone is reacting to this milestone differently:

*Some people seem really unaffected by it.  It’s just another year, another number.  No big deal.
*Some people are thrilled to embrace it.  Thrilled to leave the broke, tumultuous 20s and embrace the much more mature and experienced 30s.
*Some people really freak out.  They are getting old!!  This cannot be happening!!  So they do everything they can to cling to their younger, wilder days.
*Some people take this as a sign to settle down and mature.  Time to buy a house.  Get married.  Have kids.  Buy life insurance.

So far I seem to fall into the unaffected category, but it might be too soon to know for sure.