So, someone asked me why I didn’t make a speech at my own birthday.
Truth is, I didn’t want to. Truth is, with everything that’s happened in the last year, I was a little scared I’d choke up and fall over, emotional. Now is not the time to be faint-hearted.
In turning 30, I obviously reflected. Lucky for you reading this, I kept that mental regurgitation of a decade mostly to myself (and yelled appropriate parts down the phone at Sheena when I needed to. Thanks, fuckbitch, for dealing so damn well with my panicked phonecalls, like always).
What would I have said anyway? All I am is gratitude. A decade of hell and heaven. So much learning, so much discovery. So much laughter and probably far too much heartache. But, oh, the heart-swelling moments made every ache worthwhile. In retrospect, the times I held hands and grinned at the world, with people I loved, made every time I felt alone and frankly wanted to just disappear, worth it. Every time Cameron opens her mouth and says something that saves the day, makes the hell of two years of post-natal depression worth it. Every time I felt unsure, was worth it for every time I held a certainty. Every time I meandered into self-doubt and couldn’t get out, was worth it for every time my faith got me through. Every single insular moment, meant that every moment I felt a part of something meaningful, was even more beautiful. Every time I was left, was soothed by every time I was accompanied.
If I think back, at 20, I thought I would marry the person I was with then. And yes, Sheena, it was who you think it was. You may now snort your tea laughing. Not even a spit of time went by before I realised that was not to be. At all. Thank fuck for that first-of-the-decade life realisation. How funny, when I saw his parent the other day, and we had a giggle about our past, I realised how very, very different children can be from their parents. I just hope in his life, he got some good parts from his dad. Disparaging comments on exes over with. Maybe. We’ll see.
It was in this decade that I began to write some things I am still proud of. Not all of them, mind you. It was in this decade that I learnt about the inroads of my head, and explored them, sometimes with and mostly without, fear. That got me in to trouble at times. I am okay with that trouble.
It was in this decade that I lost my parents, and gained a child.
It was in this decade that I had to, numerous times, either forced or by choice, to re-define my own sense of belonging on every level I can think of.
It was in this decade that I lost more than I thought I could bear, and gained more than I ever thought possible.
I am forever thankful for this decade. The one with the sparkles and the shit. Even more thankful that, looking back, I don’t recall once ever finding said sparkles mixed up with said shit. That’d be just gross. Always the counter-balance, where the sunshine did come after the rain, even when it looked like the clouds just would not fucking move the fuck on.
I’ve emerged so thankful for every day. Even when given everything, or left desolate with everything taken away, I am still, in retrospect, steeped in gratitude.
But, what is it about benchmarks? These benchmarks we set for our lives, and we set for other people. Someone who I still hold very dear to me, once told me that I am the benchmark against which they compare every person they meet. I don’t think I’m ever going to be okay with that, and I reckon their bias towards me speaks more about the life experiences we had apart, than it did during our times together. But, the truth is, benchmarks exist for a reason. And, when those benchmarks are exceeded, in whatever form, you are left with a choice. The choice to create a new benchmark or to stop measuring entirely.
I choose to stop measuring entirely. I choose to actively try not to compare myself with others, and in particular those people I secretly fear the most sometimes. I’ll do my best to truly love what there is, for what it is. And I’ll not hang on to expectation, as best I possibly can.
Still, I’m learning. I’m excited to learn.
Thank you, decade-of-twenties, for showing me who the hell I was. And, well, decade-of-thirties, let’s see how you take that who I am, and get better at it.
At just being me.