Birthday Blues?

Next week I turn the big 3-3. Oddly, turning 30 didn't bother me, it wasn't really that b.i.g.. Neither did turning 31 or 32, but for some reason, this year it's different. This year, I feel older. This year, I can see the crinkles around my eyes. This year I can no longer blow off or continue plucking the gray hairs that persist in taking up residence at my temples. This year I can't think of what I'm working towards. This year, I wondered if all I'm working towards is...retirement?

Just writing that down, giving this ugly thought some real substance out in the universe seems utterly wrong. It's so lifeless. So boring. So terrifying to think that this is it?

I've spent my life chasing the next thing. I think I'm a bit like a bloodhound when I get something in my sights. Bachelors degree, done. Masters, done. Marriage, done. Kids, two, done. House, done. Occasional cool vacations, done. Wow, it's like my life boiled down into some freakish to do list. But it always seemed good! I was (am?) the admired girl, the girl who knows what she wants and works tirelessly to get it, who's bold, unafraid, and passionate.

Yeah. That's me, alright. Right up until the point where my list finished.

What's next? This is the thought that rattles around in my head enough to keep me up at night, enough to make me fill my desk with post-it notes of ideas, enough to think of every crazy, off the wall idea I've ever had. All of this in the hopes that I'll find something I missed on my big list of life.

I was thinking I might need to write out a manifesto. A personal, life, what-I'm-all-about manifesto. Sort of like a guidebook, a written reminder of what I'm all about so I can remember why I wanted all this stuff in the first place. I'm not sure it will help, but it sounds so - I don't know - prolific?

We'll see.

Next on list: "Write Personal Manifesto"