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And Then I Was 30

on August 6, 2011

I have to admit, a large part of me was looking forward to turning 30. I was excited about a new decade. I was looking forward to being taken seriously now that I was no longer a twenty-something.

And then I woke up on August 5th and realized, hey, I’m 30 years old. The harsh reality of what being 30 means rolled in and I was a miserable grouch for the entire day.

I was mad. I was mad that I’ve made it to 30 and I don’t feel like I’ve accomplished anything. I was mad that I still work entry level in a job where I can’t even get a single weekend off through the summer and that I’ll have to put in ten years before I can get Monday through Friday and daytime hours. In ten years, Ana will be 13 and she won’t really much care if I finally have weekends off to spend with her and her dad, now will she?

I was furious that I weigh the same number that I did last year. And the year before. I’ll have to write up an entire post about my food struggles one of these days, as fascinating as it is to NOBODY except myself.

I guess I just hit 30 hard. I feel like I’m in the exact same place that I was a decade ago and, quite frankly, that’s damn depressing.

I’m still mad. I feel a lot like I’m drowning.

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One response to “And Then I Was 30

  1. Megs says:

    I so know how you feel. I remember waking up that day and thinking the EXACT same things. But Court, you HAVE made changes in this last year. You’re a runner now. Your personal life is in a better spot than it was. And even thouh you don’t have the right schedule now, things have a way of working themselves out. I think that you’re doing amazing at making the changes that you WANT to make in your life. And you can focus on one thing at a time. That’s okay. Hang in there, and call me if you need to. ❤

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