Dirty Thirty (Part 1)

"There's only one alternative to getting older" -Mark S. Diggs Sr.

It’s 2020! Happy New Year! Can you believe that Y2K was 20 years ago? The world was supposed to end at least 5 times since then, yet humanity survived. We are still here! I’m still here. Believe or not, there were times I didn’t think I was going to make it. I’ve had some friends, associates, and colleagues my age who didn’t (RIP Kentresa Riley, Jason Smothers, Davon Cruz, Mia Amber Davis, Joy Ashley & Joanne Borgella). The last decade of my life has been tumultuous to say the least. I bought a house, then lost that same house. Moved 4 times, even to a different state, then moved back. Got married and divorced. Got Laid off from my job of 9 years, then hired 6 different times after that. Lost 100 pounds and gained a 100 pounds. Had the best credit score of my life and then the worst. And to top it all off, Donald Trump was elected president….all in this past decade. My 30s was bi-polar AF and a pure struggle from beginning to end! I’m TIDE (yes I said T-I-D-E, TIDE)! I should have known I was in for a wild ride filled with super high peaks, plummeting valleys, and tremendous disappointments based on the travesty of my 30th birthday. It was basically the catalyst to the decade of f*ckery ahead.

The interesting thing about being born in a year that ends in “0” is that is that the new year or decade of your life always corresponds with the year. 2009, the last year of my 20s was probably the best year of my life! I went to Jamaica 3 times, Charlotte, Vegas, and LA. I landed an editorial in Plus Model Magazine (which was a dream of mine). I was hired full-time with a government contractor 15 minutes from home (I looooooved that job and the people there) and lost over 115 pounds. Futhermore, that same year I attended 6 weddings (3 of which I was a bridesmaid), 3 baby showers, and met who I thought was going to be the love of my life.

At the stroke of midnight January 1, 2010, I had sort of an epiphany. Suddenly, like a cheesy 80s movie montage, of all the fun and adventure of my 20s flashed before my eyes. WOW, I had some fun! Like…FUN Fun! Almost too much fun! And as everyone was screaming “Happy New Year’ and spilling their champagne on the dance floor, I knew at that moment it was time to start getting serious about my life. At 30 years-old, especially for a black woman, there are no more excuses. Gone are the days of proclaiming your “young & dumb”-ness every time you fall on your ass. At 30, doing the same sh*t in your 20s just ain’t cute no more. Being drunk in the club just looks desperate and foolish. By the time you reach 30 you should truly accept complete culpability for everything in your life. “Sh*t is about to get real “ I thought to myself. But before I was to drive full speed into grown-ass womanhood, I wanted to have one last moment of irresponsible gut-busting fun to welcome my 30s. As the 20s montage played out in my mind, I also realized how amidst all that fun and debauchery, I’d I never truly had a REAL official birthday celebration (or any celebration for that matter) as an adult. All my major milestone birthdays came and went with barely any acknowledgement or fanfare. I’d never had a Sweet 16, 18th birthday, or even a graduation party (both high school or college). On my 21st birthday, there was a snowstorm in APRIL while I was away at college at Frostburg. I was so busy attending everyone else’s life celebrations that hadn’t had any of my own.

The year 2010 marked almost 2 years of me living at home recovering from a “young & dumb” 20s mistake. I repaired my credit, saved some money , and began the process of buying a home. My birthday landed on a Saturday, it was a new decade, I had at new body, and I figured it was the perfect time to finally celebrate myself. It seemed as if the stars were perfectly aligned to have the birthday celebration I had been waiting for all my life. I wanted the day to be special! Oh, It was special indeed, but I suppose I should have sent more specific signals to the Universe.

My 30th Birthday will go down in history as one of THEEE worst birthday fails EVER! The saddest part about the whole thing is that this disaster was PLANNED by two people who claimed to love and know me best, my mother and boyfriend at the time (we’ll just call him Bambi Eyes). Am I being overly dramatic? Maybe a little. Nonetheless, as I’m approaching 40 in the year 2020, my 20/20 vision in hindsight is clearer than ever. Now, I can look at the start my 30s and laugh about it, but at the time all the could say was “WHAT THE F*CK?!”

(To be continued...)