Birthday
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(part of a longer essay about origins)
I turned 33 this week. I love the “fresh start” feeling that a new calendar year brings, but I usually let birthdays slip past unnoticed, because for a long time, they were miserable occasions that only served to remind me of all the things I didn’t like about my life. I don’t write or draw much about those days because they aren’t funny and feel like a totally different life, but you know, I’m trying to do new and difficult things!
My 30s were hard because I had to figure out who I was, since I'd spent all of my 20s doing the Right Thing As Told To Me By Other People. But my 30s were also an exciting time of... figuring out who I was. Happy birthday! It's a big thing to face the sadness and own it.
You may not like writing about this, but boy is it powerful! I have saved several of your newsletters to show my young adult children. I'll include this. Life gets better, I promise (though I'm 48 and still have a great deal of angst about, well, just about everything...maybe that's what helps us find our bliss :) Ah, to live. Thank you, thank you. This is real and true.