It’s my birthday and I can cry if I want to

Well, it happened. I’ve reached another decade of life. Three. Zero. It crept up on me and now it’s here. I’ve been thinking a lot about this recently, how I approach decision-making for the future, the limits of possibility, my relationships, career, biological clock… the list goes on. It’s been easy, especially for me, to get caught up in anxiety. I seem to obsess about “my place” in the world and what it means to be successful and happy.


This led up to yesterday, when I looked at some of my baby photos. Other than the novelty of seeing myself and my family from 30 years ago, their youthful complexion, my father’s terrible fashion sense, something else was apparent: it’s not all about me. It’s humbling to see these images of your family in a completely different context, new parents, scared and still trying to figure it out. I have no memory of these events, but here they are, my family smiling and laughing.


Another year, another decade…