I turned 31 on Saturday and have no pictures to show for it because we went out to dinner on Friday night and were up until 11:30 pm, which meant that we were just exhausted on my actual birthday. Getting old is rough, you guys.
Still, I like 31-year old me better than early 20s me. My parents got me a new point-and-shoot camera for my birthday and when I dropped a memory card in it I was greeted with photos from a 2007 trip Wes and I took to Santa Barbara to see a friend get married. The pictures were not pretty and it was a pretty shitty reminder of who I was and how I behaved. It reminded me of something my cousin said to me at my wedding: “There for a while, Dani, we weren’t too sure of what you were doing.” Or something to that effect. And it’s true. I was a mess when I lived in Santa Barbara and getting drunk and telling my roommate (who was also my landlord and boss) that I was moving was probably the best thing I could have done.
At 31 I’m in better shape than I’ve ever been. I have an amazing husband and baby. I’m close to my family and Wes’ family. We have a dog who is incredibly patient with Stella so even though she steals things and doesn’t listen, we deal. I’m more focused on me and what I need to be happy than I have ever been before. I’m more aware of the things that make me feel awful, as well as the things that make me feel good, than I have ever been before.
In my early 20s, 30 seemed so far away. It felt old. It felt like nearing the end. Now that I’m here, I don’t feel like that at all. I feel rested and confident, but most of all I feel happy.
30 was a pretty amazing year and I’m looking forward to what 31 will bring.