In a few weeks I’m about to turn…thirty.

Even typing that makes me feel sick. THIRTY. Where did that time go?!

A lot of people have been telling me not to be silly and that’s not “old” but to me that sounds old, and adult-like.

Being in your twenties signifies youth, fun and excitement, and being in your thirties signifies all things older and more mature.

turning thirty
Some of the wild moments of my 20s!

But I guess the more I think about it the more I’m finding some benefits to starting a new decade.
My twenties have been a mixture of fun, wild clubbing nights that have lasted three or four days, bad hangovers and mad holidays, but they’ve also featured a lot of heartache.

I met my son’s father when I was 23 and he dominated the remainder of my twenties up until Chunk was a few weeks old. The majority of that time was hard, painful and very stressful due to his addiction to alcohol and then heroin.

This included lies upon lies, stealing from me and my son and lots of emotional mind games from him. Even now he is sober the lies and mind games have not stopped, and unfortunately neither has his selfishness, so by him continuing to put himself above Chunk, that’s why he is not in his life.

When he left for the last time when Chunk was 6 weeks old, I then spent the next year with extreme depression and anxiety due to the ongoing issues with him, including him visiting claiming to be sober and stealing from me, to promising to give me some money for nappies and food and never doing it, and even texting me late at night to tell me his friend was coming over to kill me and my baby. Even recalling this is very hard for me, but I’m amazed at how far I have come in the past year.

I have worked with my anxiety and depression and pretty much overcome them, I have changed my career to reduce my stress and ensure I have time with Chunk before he starts school, and I have started to look at the more positive parts of life.

So when looking at my twenties, they have sucked in may ways, so why do I want to stay in them?

I’m no longer scared of turning thirty, because I plan to make this decade a hell of a lot better than the previous one. THIS IS MY DECADE, and I will ensure Chunk and I make it as good as we can.

Sure I’m scared that being a single parent in my thirties is not really where I thought I would be when I used to imagine my adulthood as a child, but it could be a lot worse. I could still be with that man, going through the daily worry of whether or not he was lying to me about every little thing and waiting for the next lapse and effect it would have on my son. So actually, being a single parent to a beautiful boy really is not a bad thing.

So let’s raise a glass to my thirties, and I hope when I blog aged 39, I won’t be talking about another awful decade!


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