Today marks the 30th anniversary of when I was birthed. 30 years in the books and hopefully decades more to follow.
The remarkable thing: I made it to 30.
Very few people know anything about what I will be sharing below.
Something that started when I was 17 recently came back in full force over the last few months as my 30th birthday was fast approaching.
When I was a mature 17 year old, I was reflecting on how life was currently going and where I was headed. I was incredibly active and had a desire to never sleep, thinking that something major would happen and it would be missed. I was always moving, anxious, and never able to relax. That lifestyle wore on me. It would wear on most anyone. While at home one evening, I remember telling myself “if I keep this pace up, there is no way I will make it to 30.”
Since, I have had the thought of dying before I reached age 30 in the back of my mind. For 13 years, this thought has followed me around.
That thought became a perceived fate, a foregone conclusion for many years. I do think it impacted some decision I have made in my twenties, believing if I only had so much time left, I may as well experience all I can.
I was careless at times, thinking my fate was soon approaching. But I never went off the deep end doing absolutely anything and everything, breaking all possible rules, engaging in illicit drug use (yuck), among other non-optimal lifestyle choices. I was willing to consider the chance I was wrong and would make it not only to my 30th birthday, but beyond.
At times, thoughts of an early death would subside. Frequently, a new life event would have me back on the early death bandwagon quickly. Add that thought to some serious anxiety issues since turning 29 and that makes for a fun life.
Imagine having that thought in the back and sometimes front of your mind as you go through life. I cannot count how many times I have gone to bed thinking “is this it? Was today my last day alive? Did I accomplish everything I needed and wanted to?” No wonder I have sleep issues.
As my 30th birthday has approached, those thoughts of dying before reaching 30 have crept into my mind one last time.
30 is not just an age. 30 is a milestone that for years, was assumed to be something considered impossible.
It’s 11:21pm in Minneapolis, and I will be staying up past midnight solely to prove myself wrong.
12:01am: I have never been so happy to be wrong. I made it to June 1. Thanks for the conversation, Mr. Nash.
7:02am: Officially, I am 30. And 30 is going to be amazing.
With malice toward none; with charity for all.