Thirty.
I've been spending the last several weeks reflecting on the Danie from ten years ago. The Danie who was about to turn twenty was a goddamned mess. I found her blog and am ashamed that it was me who wrote it. I must say that it's a relief that I've always been so raw with my feelings when writing, but the content itself is so unnecessary and unimportant given the changes that I have undergone in the last ten years.
Turning twenty seems like it was tremendously devastating for me. I was going through what I had assumed would be the largest ordeals of my life, when in comparison, they were small fries. I was preparing to move to England and in turn, uproot my entire life for the sake of a love that I had little expectation would end only slightly less quickly than it had begun. I was drastically in love and content to shout it from the rooftops. I was the centre of my universe with little or no regard to anything or anyone that tried to distract from that. I alienated every single person from my life who didn't hold me on a pedestal, unwilling to acknowledge or feel any compassion for anybody but my own self. And for what? I lost several months of friendship with one of the most important and influential people in my life. I said embarrassingly hateful things to people who wanted nothing but to see me make decisions that were going to make my future as beautiful as I wanted it to be. People who were frustrated and exhausted with my petulant attitude and need for constant attention.
Actual constant attention. I literally posted like six entries a day, every single day. I was begging for people to idolize my desperation. There was no notice of other people, their needs, or really anything except how they could help me.
I was living in an ugly world. Nineteen for me was just an awful time and I wish I could go back and slap myself around a little bit and talk some sense to myself. So many ties were severed in those several months before turning twenty and I hate that I let myself get that bad.
And since, I have gone to England, gotten married, lost my mother, gotten divorced, moved back to America, lost a couple of best friends, gotten married again, lost my grandmother, begun school, and endured the agonizing job that is step-parenting. And that's a nutshell, just a little snippet of the large, sweeping events that have headlined my life in the past ten years. It's been a highly eventful decade that has seen beauty and horrible. Seen great strides that have been painful, but have turned me into a person that I am proud of who has grown and learned hugely.
Now, today, I am just over three weeks to thirty and over three-quarters into my education, happily making my marriage into something I can be infinitely prouder of every day, and building friendships with people who are special and just as willing to let me uplift their lives as they do mine. It's a much more fulfilling and satisfying leap into a new decade. I have achieved many things and come through a gigantic amount of experiences and I couldn't be happier with where my life is right now.
So, as I go into my next ten years. My thirties. I'm not as scared as I was prior to my twenties. I am eagerly awaiting what my next adventure will look like. How many more beautiful people I will meet, and what new experiences I will have. I can't wait to find out what I will learn and how I will grow. It's not as scary of a time for me and I welcome it with open arms.
