31

One week ago I turned 31. Now, I typically enjoy birthdays. I enjoy presents, love cake and as a kid I was the type who couldn't wait to turn a year older in order to reach the next pinnacle of maturity. Even turning 30 felt great. I couldn't wait to say good-bye to my 20s, a decade that was already mostly lost to substance induced haze anyways.

But 31, um well, it has knocked me on my ass and I have yet to pick myself back up.

30 for some reason felt safe. 31 feels like something major has changed. Or maybe more correctly, it feels like something SHOULD change and I just can't seem to figure out what or how to make said change, or to do any of this fast enough to solve this looming crisis of identity.

31 feels like grown up is no longer something to achieve, something awaiting me around the next bend...IT'S HERE! And now I can't find a rock big enough to hide under.

I feel a little like Mr. Wheels here looks,


like reality has just awoken me from a wonderful sun soaked nap and I am super unsure about what the hell is going on here in the real world.

People keep saying things to me that include words like "marriage" and "children". These are things I was sure I had all the time in the world to consider. Now apparently my proverbial clock should be ticking.

Perhaps I've already lost my hearing due to old age but I can't hear any ticking anywhere.

There's so much I want to do before all this stuff people are yammering about but now it feels like the pressure is growing to the point of overwhelming. The more pressure I feel the more likely I am to run and hide. Of course there's also the reality that overwhelming pressure is what won me a breakdown in the first place.

So now I feel more like this,

Screaming at myself in my reflection and still I can't decipher a damn thing.