Turning 30 sounded so trivial, it’s so stupid it’s just a number.
Everyone keeps making jokes, telling me I’m being silly. But they don’t get it.
Part of me wants to be so thrilled I’m still here, I made it through the worst years of my depression and have a beautiful family.. I should be so grateful.
But I lay here mourning the life I dreamt I’d have at 30. I wanted to be married in my 20’s; to be a young beautiful bride? No. To have the most possible years to celebrate our love. Now? I can’t even see it happening by 40.
Two children? Almost.. just one.. the other seems so far from my grasp I’m starting to lose hope there too. As stupid as it sounds so much changes after 30 with carrying a child that I have a whole new anxiety to deal with.. and being an old mum.
Own a home? That’s a joke in the world we live in.
Enough money to live? Not even be rich just to actually really enjoy life? Hardly. I’m such a mess I can’t even face going to work. I let my partner down, my son down, and myself.
30 isn’t so bad, if I ignore everything I hoped I’d have at 30.
