Another birthday has come and gone; I turned 34 on Sunday and I’m a little surprised and dismayed by how it’s affecting me. I’m not prone to bouts of “I’m so oolldddd and going to die soooonnn” and have little patience for people who do. But here I am, all woe-is-me and basically behaving like a walking cliche wrapped in a Cathy cartoon.
Maybe it’s because my doctor’s warning that I better get crack-a-lackin’ soon if I want to have a kid (although I am not actually cleared to start trying so this was a bit confusing, but I try to make it a policy not to argue with someone who has a flashlight up my vag) has been echoing in my head for almost a month. Maybe it’s because I’m not really thrilled with my life career-wise. Maybe I’m just a neurotic whore. Whatever the reason, it’s clear that I need to make some changes before I fall down the rabbit hole of full-on depression (or at the very least terminal bitterness).
Existential crisis aside, it was a lovely birthday weekend with the perfect mix of social time, alone time, aand time with my hot husband who spoils my undeserving ass with dinner and champagne and surprises. Unromantic as this may sound, he took my car to be washed and detailed while I got my hair did and came home and glued myself to Downton Abbey and OHMYHELL it was the best thing anyone has done for me that I could actually discuss in public. So you can see why I might feel like kind of a dick for not being perfectly content (not that I am UNGRATEFUL). It’s like I’m looking for reasons to be sad and you know who does that? Someone I’d like to punch in the face.
Jesus, I feel like this post should be accompanied by some sort of sad trombone/Debbie Downer sound effect, but I know the more I try to suppress this or put on a happy face or disappear and isolate myself until this passes, the worse I’ll feel. So here’s hoping I can turn this around quick-like.
Am I the only one who has gone through this? Any ideas on how to ease up on myself?