The big 3-0 was as uneventful as any birthday. I’m still coping with the concept that I am not a young hot commodity any more. So many chapters in my life are closed.
I am proud/satisfied/satiated that I had my wild adventurous streak. I’ve hooked up on airplanes, had a once year fling (sort of) with a guy in Amsterdam, traveled by myself, traveled with friends, took risks, went skydiving, bended rules, pushed boundaries, tested myself, left my comfort zone, returned to my comfort zone, expanded my horizons. I loved too much, was dumped too often, danced too silly, lived too recklessly, laughed too loudly, spoke too frequently. But I was me, and I did what felt right and shaped me into who I am.
Even though I am married, a mom, and pregnant with #2, it does not mean my life is over. I just struggle to accept that certain risks and opportunities are over. But for the most part, I did them.
Feeling a little reflective today, in case that was not evident.
I’m happy where my life is today. I love my family. I just wish career wise I was more accomplished, but I know I only have myself to blame for that.
I know I’m lucky and fortunate and blessed and I do not take anything for granted.
One night I got into a taxi and the driver heard me call my grandmother to say hello. He commented how nice that was and we each made a comment about thanking Gd for our blessings. He then turned up the volume on some gospel sermon that he was listening to on the radio. I asked him to turn it down. He thought I would enjoy it, and made sure I agreed with him that I loved Jesus. I did not have the heart to tell him I was Jewish.