Coming out

Tomorrow is my 30th birthday. I’m totally freaked out. I’m dreading it.

It isn’t helping that tomorrow is also Yom Kippur, a day that I am dreading for other reasons.

30 years. 30 years? 30 years!

That sounds like a really really long time. Am I where I wanted to be? Actually, sort of yes. But it feels different. Am I done growing? Not even close.

If I could summarize how it feels to turn 30 with all this crazy in my head, I would say that I feel as tired as an 80 year old and as clueless as a 3 year old.

I think that for my 30th birthday, it would be good if I could start to come to terms with being the real me, openly and honestly. I’ve been hiding a bit on my blog by not really putting up any photos. Also, I can’t stand to look at photos of myself these days. So I’m going to try to face my fears and embrace my imperfections and muster the courage to post a photo of me. um….next year…


5 thoughts on “Coming out

  1. Confession: I have hairy man arms. Stupid Italian genes. I’m only 1/4 Italian but those bass turd Italian Stallion genes picked me to be hairy. Damn you and your glorious meatballs.
    You’re beautiful. You really are.
    30 isn’t bad. It’s just a number. Really. I stopped having birthdays at 25. I can’t remember how old I am…ok it’s 32…but don’t tell anyone.


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