33.

 I skipped a couple weeks here, just because life has been very busy. I actually did have things to write about both weeks, but didn't carve out the time to process and write them all out. 

But yesterday I turned 33. It's kind of wild and kind of scary and also kind of mundane at the same time. I threw myself a big Last Supper themed birthday party last weekend which was a blast but also made it feel like I'd already had my birthday so the actual day was pretty low key. I didn't really end up making any plans for it, and mostly spent the day alone, doing things that I enjoy and taking a much needed rest. The weeks leading up to my party were filled with planning, prepping, baking, and all sorts of work getting ready to host a 13 person dinner.

In my time alone, though, I kept thinking about the ways that my life is different at 33 than I ever thought it would be and the ways it is different than the lives my parents had at this age. In many ways my life is full and rich and everything I want it to be. I get to spend my free time doing exactly what I want. I spend time on crafts, reading books and attending entirely too many book clubs, I hang out at the springfed pool regularly in the summers here and get to sleep in on the weekends. Very little beyond my own whims and fancies dictates how I spend my free time and I love that. But there are other things about my life that still don't feel realized. There are still parts of "being an adult" that feel beyond my capabilities and I'm not really sure why because I look around me and see other people navigating similar situations with seeming ease. 

I was talking with a friend recently about how interesting I find the word "bravery" because it is so extremely up to interpretation. My mother has told me that she thinks I'm brave, and many other people have said the same over the years. I also willingly admit that what I might be is stupid; I am perfectly willing to go for a walk alone at night, which is something I know scares many people, especially many women. I think mostly I've been lucky enough to never be personally traumatised by any terrible outcomes from my brave/stupid decisions because surely if I'd ever been attacked or something equally untoward I would be far less willing to risk my bodily safety on the regular. But as it is, nothing has ever really gone wrong for me and I refuse to let the possibility of something bad happening someday determine how I live my life. But like I said, I don't think that's brave...probably just stupid. And I don't feel brave. I don't think most people feel brave. Which brings me back to my original point on this topic, which is that we assess bravery on a deeply personal level. We see others as brave when they are able to do things that seem scary or intimidating to us regardless of how those people feel about the things they are doing. One of my mother's examples for my bravery was moving across the country alone a couple of times. And for my mom, who has lived in Maine for her whole life, I can see how that would come across as bravery. But it didn't feel like something that required bravery of me; it just felt like the next right step in my life each time I did it. And yes, uprooting my life multiple times has been challenging, but not in a way that felt insurmountable. There are plenty of mundane things that feel completely beyond my comfort level and I avoid those things. There are things that are a breeze to others that fill me with existential dread to the point where I just never deal with them. And I think everybody has things that feel completely beyond their capacity. We've all got boundaries for things that are scary or too hard or too tedious and we all have things that feel routine and easily achievable. The specifics are just different for each person, yet we perceive the ability to face our insurmountable challenges as bravery in others. Which makes sense! I just find it really interesting. 

One of the things I decided while I spent time alone reflecting on my birthday is that this year I want to start tackling more of the obstacles that have felt overwhelming to me. Getting things done that feel scary or hard and that I've simply avoided because of that. It feels like time to face those demons. Maybe that's just because it's fully spring here and I'm slowly emerging from my troll-like winter state. Maybe 33 is the year I finally turn into a real adult? I guess we'll see.