As the minutes ticked away to my thirtieth I felt truly gutted.
I felt that after that I would be middleaged and live a quiet boring life for the rest of my years.
Luckily for me it turned out to be the complete opposite and I had no qualms on the following two decade birthdays.
31 bothered me much more than 30, because I was now in my thirties. I generally had all the trapping of being an adult- house, wife, kids, bills, etc, but did not feel like I had personally accomplished anything. It was really a kick in the but to get me in gear.
26 was hard for me, too. It was a real “grown-up” age, and there I was, in a crappy job and a crappy marriage.
30 was nice - I was in a new job, and I was dating the future Mrs. Magill.
40 was just a couple of weeks ago. Mrs. Magill and I are still together and happy. We have three great kids.
I’m wondering what 50 will bring.
Actually 25…because that meant that 30 was around the corner and that felt old at the time. 30 however, was not nearly as big a deal.
You all realize that it’s an artificial number based upon the length of time it takes our planet to orbit our nearest star, right? Come to think of it time itself is completely artificial. I never got what was so special or important about birthdays in the first place.
Congratulations. You’ve made it for another spin around the sun.
ETA: Sorry. Not trying to threadshit. I really don’t “get” birthdays.
No crises so far, though I’m only 34. What slays me is that my son is getting to an age I remember well. My mom would entertain and my sister and I would sit on the stairs, listening in, wondering when the hell these boring people would go away so we could raid the leftovers. All they did was talk! How could they even consider what my mom did as a real party?!? And when could we get to the goodies, dammit? Knowing that he’s probably thinking the same thing when our friends come over makes me feel older. Not old, just older.
I also seem to have an unhealthy obsession with death and abandonment. Not of anyone abandoning me, but me getting into an accident and not being there for my family or something. I never used to think about this stuff - I didn’t even think about it last year, but since having my daughter, I think about it far more frequently than I used to.
39 was tough for me, because no one believes you when you say you’re 39. Forty wasn’t so bad, though. By the time it rolled around, I had already been telling people I was 40 for most of a year (since no one believes “39” is an honest reply!)
The one that hit me hardest, though, was 36. I realized that day that I was older than my father would ever be, and didn’t feel nearly as wise as it seemed like he was.
I had a hard time with forty last year. My mom died at 49, and I remember she seemed old. She seemed old and tired. I feel old and tired. It scares me.
I do vaguely remember feeling slightly weird about thirty but not depressed like this. I remember being alone in a bar, thinking I was thirty and had nothing. Here I am forty with nothing still but that really doesn’t bother me. I’ve learned I don’t need much.
I do need to be alive though.
Once I hit 55, I realized that I was wrong. About a lot of things, including fooling around.
I’m sure we’ve all seen examples of older folk who just don’t give a damn what other people think of them (70-ish womwn on our block: wears wild plaids with leopard prints, goes kayaking in the Pacific and takes random train rides through Mexico… ) that’s my role model.
And once I found out I could save money by being old, I was suddenly all for it! I went to a big multi-day rock festival with an older friend and he got in for $3! Just because he’d turned 60. Woo-hoo! Bring! It! On!
I don’t disagree - but I will note that I spent my ninth birthday in the hospital. And while none of my other birthdays have bothered me, that sucked big time.
So far, 25. I’m in a place where that usually means married and a couple kids (and/or divorced). I feel like I’m still a kid. No one my age seems fun anymore, but I feel creepy hanging around the youngsters. And the older people tend to still treat me as a kid.
Fortunately, I know it’ll get better. Someday I’ll stop having those dreams where I snuck back into high school, even though I’ve already graduated.