As the 24th of this month passed, I gained heightened awareness that my birthday is in the not-so-far-off future. Let’s be real, here. It’s only 4 months away. That’s a third of the year away. No, I’m not going to start celebrating now and demand that we all celebrate the entire month of September, August, and sure why not July and June too, in honor of my birth.  The whole ‘let’s celebrate the whole week long’ thing was so high school, I admit it.  I’m fine with only celebrating the day-of this event.
Because, while this birthday is monumental, it’s also one I don’t embrace.

I’ll turn the big three-oh.
30.
(cue the dramatics)

With the wedding occupying much (ok, almost all) of my thoughts I nearly forgot to get excited/worried/begin freaking out.

Part of me feels anciently old (redundant, yes).
And if I’m being completely honest (and why the hell not) I see so many women who wed younger and started their families already.  I wonder if my timelines is off.  I worry about conceiving children.  I heard a women’s eggs start dying around age thirty.  I’m paranoid about being old.  I want to be able to chase my kids around and be active, not old and lazy.

Part of me feels youthfully young.
I have so much time ahead.  I am getting married now after being able to travel with my fiance, live a fun life of going-out and staying up late, and continue this trend for as long as we like.  There are no limitations, aside from my own, and there’s no reason to change.
 
The other part of me feels too worried about my upcoming nuptials to let anything else bother me.

So that’s that.
Turning 30, worried about getting old, worried about growing up.
But honestly? I’m a little happy to be tying the knot before 30.
Check it off the list.