Celebratory

There's a part of me - and a huge one at that - that thinks it absolutely crazy that in a few hours time, I'm turning thirty. Who would have thunk it?

Really, I'm surprised that I've even made it this far, considering the amount of times I've entertained the fantasy of dying before anyone else in my family. I realise that this is some borderline institutionalised crazy behaviour but part of me has always had this notion in the back of my mind. Perhaps it's a relic from years past of growing up in a dysfunctional family; not to mention dealing with a sexuality that was yet-to-be widely accepted, let alone spoken about.

But I digress.

Tonight, as I celebrate the last few hours of my 20s with a bottle of wine, some candlelight and my own solitary company, I can't help but feel happiness that I haven't previously felt before. I've made it. I'm well, I'm healthy and I feel fulfilled.

In spite of the fact that many I speak to - usually those of the younger generation - bemoan the death of my own "youth", I feel particularly excited about entering my "dirty thirties". I can sense the endless possibilities. And boy, will it be fun!

So here's to being formally considered an adult, to leaving the heady youth of the 20s and to welcoming the rockin' 30s that's about to unfold.

Happy birthday, me!