Growing up is about eating nasty shit.
Does the number 25 mean anything to you, today? To me it means, I’m officially 25.
Yep, its my fucking birthday.
Happy birthday to me.
Did you remember to write on my FB wall, send me an E-card AND shoot a quick text to my phone? Well, here is your chance to do so without me thinking you forgot.
This is the first year that I haven’t looked forward to my birthday. Granted, the last two birthdays weren’t the best. Mother Nature decided to shit on the entire East Coast with some pretty hefty super storms. I was expecting some kind of monstrosity this year but nothing yet. Forecast looks stellar so far. I wouldn’t be surprised if an asteroid hit the earth in a couple of hours though, we shall see.
As a teenager, imagining myself at 25, I had some goals I expected to accomplish. Not all of my bucket-list items are checked off but for the most part, I guess I got pretty close. I’m employed, I am happy, I am decently fit and decently good looking. That’s most of them right there. I am also married with a kid, that’s definitely something I never factored in, so we shall consider these events as cherries on the 25 year old cake.
Something about turning 25 frightens me. Perhaps it’s the fact that I am officially in my mid-twenties or that I am half way to the age of 50…both are pretty intimidating.
I guess 25 also means that my metabolism will slow down, I should expect grey hair in 2-3 years and I am no longer in the 18-24 demographic.
But here is some exciting news..now I can rent a car!I think I will just head on over to Enterprise and rent the entire fleet. WOW, life is great.
Nah, still not feeling the 25 age.
I have done a lot of reflecting this week on the past three years…they have been such a crazy roller coaster for me personally and I am amazed as to how far I have matured. Like the fact that I don’t feel the need to drink as heavily as I used for every event that requires drinking (my vomit-free toilet and drunk babysitter-husband are very pleased about that). Assessing the pain of being hungover to 3-4 more drinks actually happens now.
Way to go maturity, way to go!
But with maturity comes great…fear. Like the fear of realizing you can die at any moment. I don’t mean to get all dark on you, but I am now scared of things that never crossed my mind during the ages of 16-23. A couple of years ago, I was thrilled by the thought of wreck-less driving, jumping out of airplanes and leaving my house unlocked. Now, I’m practically an agoraphobic. When I fly on a plane, I think its going to crash or when I drive on a bridge, I’m convinced it’s going to collapse. Hell, I can’t even turn on the oven without considering the possibilities of an explosion.
Do you ever wake up in the middle of the night convinced a mass murderer broke into your house and is hiding in your attic ready to strike while you sleep? Or that you will spontaneously burst into flames watching TV? I do, all the time. Space junk could land on me at any moment and yet I spent my younger years being reckless. It’s a surprise I have stayed alive this long.
Anyways, the point is, I have seen some changes in myself over the past few years; some good, some bad.
I look back on to my 21st birthday which should have been spent drinking my head off, but instead, I was 6 months pregnant, planning a wedding while in college. Or my 22nd and 23rd birthday when I was a newlywed, juggling work, college homework and an infant. On each of my birthdays, I had so much going on that I never took a moment to be grateful. Instead I resented that fact that I had to be so grown up during the years of my life when it shouldn’t have been expected of me. I just accepted that life happened without really understanding what a great gift I had been given.
On my 24th birthday last year, I decided that I needed to do something to re-invent myself; I was tired of being angry and resentful for the past 3 years of my life. It was time for me to do something for me, not because it was expected or responsible, but because I enjoyed doing it. I wanted to finally be able to do something that would change the way I looked at life.
And the best idea I could come up with was this blog.
As funny and pathetic as that may sound, trust me, it has been one of my better ideas.
On this day last year, That Girl Ryan, the blog, was born and what an eye opener it has been….
It’s not the fact that I just write whatever the hell comes to my head…this blog is so many things to me because all the people like YOU, who read it. You are the driving motivator behind this blog. Your laughter, your emails, your comments keep me writing about things nobody will talk about.
You bring out the voice that makes you giggle, the voice that says exactly what you won’t, the voice that refuses to be susshed and dismissed. YOU are all, That Girl Ryan.
So as I reflect on my birthday today, I just want to say, THANK YOU!
Thank you for reading. Thank you for laughing. Thank you for helping me grow.
This past year has been one of my best and I have all you to thank for that.
25 will be a great year, unless of course I get murdered by the psychopath hidden in my attic.
Happy birthday to Me, Happy Birthday to That Girl Ryan.
What else do you need in life?
