I turned 32 today.
When I was a kid, it seemed like the grown ups in my life had it all together. My parents always knew what they were doing, they never seemed to be plagued by doubt or fear or uncertainty, and life seemed simple. As a parent, I realize that this was a lie. Grown ups are just making it up as they go along, and we put on a brave face for our kids, but in all reality we're usually just one bad day from completely unraveling. Or maybe that's just me.
The past year hasn't been all that great. I lost my job in November and I've struggled with finding something for the past seven months. The stress of it weighs on me, as well as the financial burdens associated with long(er)-term unemployment. To be totally frank, the 32nd year of my life isn't one that I feel all that much like celebrating.
When I woke up this morning, I wasn't excited or giddy about my birthday. I'm tired and weary and stressed and I'm really ready for a change. As I got dressed and headed off to school for a day of subbing, I rolled everything over in my mind. I don't want to celebrate this year that much, so this is what I've come up with. Last year sucked. Here's to my 33rd year of life - it's going to be better.