Thanks to @johanneswre for making this photo available freely on @unsplash

Are you familiar with the term “Golden Birthday”? it’s when your age corresponds with the day you were born on- in many places a sign of good luck, extra blessings, and overall an extra special birthday.

This year is my Golden Birthday, I turn 30 on July 30th- it’s a day I’ve actually been looking forward too for a few years! To me, a Golden birthday didn’t have to be a huge deal or celebration, but was a milestone… a marker with personal significance for myself. In the past, I’ve looked forward to turning 30, celebrating with a few gatherings of close friends / family, maybe going to one of the most sacred spaces for myself (the beach), and taking my birthday month as a month to reflect on all the places I’ve been, things accomplished… and to dream big dreams of where I’m headed for the next 10 years….

Right now though, in present time… I’m not feeling so Golden about this Golden Birthday.

I’ve been in a funk for a couple of weeks, now recognizing a bout of depression as just the vessel carrying deep feelings of anger and grief. Instead of this sense of fullness and joy… the closer this birthday gets I feel a gaping hole dug deep with sadness, loss, anger, disappointment, and grief.

I’ve been frustrated even more by this deep void- how dare I feel this way about something that I dreamed to be joyful, hopeful, bright and exciting?! These past few weeks, my emotions have been worn thin and my mind grown increasingly weary. A moment of vulnerability: I’ve cried more than a healthy person should in this time.

“But Bella, why are you sad? You are only turning 30. You are still young, you are happily married, you have a good job, things seem good and ok. Why so much emphasis on this day anyway?”

These are the things I imagine people will ask if I bring the subject up. These are the things I sometimes say to myself….

The reality is that I’ve felt every lack, every self perceived failure, every big loss I’ve ever encountered, so much deeper lately.

Where I expected to see accomplishments, I see goals I’ve never reached.

Where I expected to feel my arms weighted and the love in my heart expand with children, I stand with empty arms and a hollow heart, hands holding onto grief and desire. I am angry about my infertility journey, PCOS, and the many ways my body continues to fail me. I’m frustrated that I’m being told my conditions could mean I get pregnant later in life rather than while I’m young… or that I might not get pregnant at all.

Where I expected to have at least started towards the career dreams I hoped to be included in my next chapter, I am left with more dashed hopes. The pandemic halted any and all progress on those and I have no idea when I will be able to pick them back up- if I ever will be able too.

Turning 30 is not at all going how I expected.

I feel far (in sense and geographically) from any of my friends that I know would have taken the time to celebrate me in meaningful ways… the kind of friends that make me feel truly seen and known on a deep level. We’ve moved a lot in the past few years, and the pandemic and our current space has made making friends in the place we’ve lived in for almost a year now very difficult.

Where I thought I would be thriving, I feel like I am merely surviving. Everything feels like a husk of what I thought it would be.

I feel the busyness of life and am preparing for the weight of even more big time responsibilities… which has made me question whether I have time to actually celebrate how I’ve hoped or if I have done anything worth celebrating at all.

…Anyway…

Why am I sharing all of this?

I’m sharing because I have a sneaking suspicion that though I feel alone in this, I am not the only one to experience it. Naming it and spelling it out is not only imperative to finding my own healing… it also lets others know they are not alone, and leads to a freedom to talk about it.

In my head, I know this is not all doom and gloom.

I know that I’m only turning 30. I know that children could still be in the cards for me, and if I’m able to start setting some money aside soon I’ll be able to pursue my dreams of doula certifications.

I know that there are people who love and support me, just spread out over the globe, who would celebrate with me in the ways we’ve dreamed about and talked about… if they could. I know I’m not alone.

I know that really, it’s just a birthday. It’s just a day I’ve assigned meaning too, that could just as easily be any day or have no meaning.

I’m hopefully going on a small trip with my cousin, 11 years younger than me, born on my birthday. We call each-other “birthday buddies”. As a child, while my aunt was pregnant, I prayed that the baby would be a girl and would be born on my birthday. For some reason, God listened.

Maybe this all comes down to wondering if I am seen and am known? To finding the heart agreeing with the head ….

I guess I’ll let you know in a few weeks. Or maybe not. Maybe it’s ok to just feel what I feel this year. Maybe it’s ok for 30 to be sad.