by Stacey A. Smith

Created on: March 26, 2009

So...today I am 30. Like all birthdays, this one provides introspection, but even more so than usual. I don't really feel thirty years old. I don't really look thirty years old. But I am none-the-less.

So, what really makes this birthday different from others? Why was I dreading it so much?

I always thought that I was born on a lucky day. All my birthdays were generally good and things really worked out for me...At least until I turned twenty-one.

Two weeks before my twenty-first birthday my relationship of 3 years ended. I was young and had never handled strong heartbreak like that before so I did what most young women do in that situation, I ran away. My sister lived eight hours away from pretty much everything and everyone I knew and I thought moving there would solve all my love issues.

So my twenty-first birthday party was also my going away party. And right from the bar, my sister who had driven home to drive me back, drove me into the night far away from everyone I had ever loved. Needless to say, that was a hard birthday.

A year later and a bit wiser, I was in a new town and closer to my sister than ever. Scheduled for birthday twenty-two was to be a girl's night out. Just the two us, hitting the town and drinking it up. The night started harmlessly enough but finished with me over-indulging and ending up with a slight case of alcohol poisoning. Again, not a red-stellar birthday to remember.

Four years later, I thought, twenty-six would be the birthday that I had been hoping for. I was involved with a younger guy that made me feel youthful and fun. He planned an elaborate dinner at one of the most expensive restaurants in town, showed up with flowers and presented me with jewelry. Unfortunately, all his attempts to have a grown-up date made me feel old and just magnified the differences in our ages. Six years suddenly felt like a bigger obstacle than we were able to overcome. Three weeks later, we broke up. And it was all due to the thoughts placed in my head starting with that meant to be perfect birthday.

By age thirty and ten years of not so successful and generally just bad birthdays, I had succumbed to the fact that 20 years of being born on a lucky day just meant ten years of being born under a rotten sign. I had all but given up on the great birthday scenario and thirty meant a bad birthday and turning the proverbial page on the twenties and all that came with it.

But you know what? The more I thought about it, I was ready. I wasn't that insecure, meek girl that had to run away from love that failed and I wasn't that girl that was out of control either. I had taken all my bad birthdays and learned from them. Maybe it didn't have to be a big deal. Maybe the day would be great without putting any pressure on it.

And guess what? All my worrying and bad thoughts about thirty were just that, thoughts. I had finally conquered my horrible, dreaded birthdays. So, I learned that if I had to work this hard for it to be good, it meant it wasn't working at all. So, now 30 doesn't seem so bad and I'm almost looking forward to thirty-one. Almost.

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