On being 37 and turning 38

This Thursday I will be turning 38 and for the first time since I turned 31 I mind getting older. For some reason 38 seems ancient to me. A giant leap closer towards wrinkles, creaky bones and the point of no return. A sort of this is it feeling. I will forever be this anxious, slightly depressed person, holding down an office job and endlessly peddling from job to house to grocery store to day-care and back again.

When I look back the last year was hard. I had to give up a lot of things just to be able to do the necessary shit that needs to be done to have a life. I slowly stopped going out, drinking, smoking, dancing or doing anything spontaneous. I even at some point stopped having sex. Working and raising a kid and trying to breathe has been my year. And of course, the kid is the absolute best thing in the world, but momma needs to have a life too.

It is interesting that what I think makes life worth living is alcohol and smoking, but hey, I had some amazing times doing just that! And I miss it. Of course, there are things that will not happen again as I get older.Β I will never be pregnant again, and hold my own new born baby. I will never feel like the prettiest girl at the party again. I will hopefully not have a disastrous one night stand again. And I will never be 37 again, which, now that I think about it, might be a good thing.

For my 38th I will make the following resolutions. One night (or a few) I will smoke a packet of cigarettes, being pleasantly drunk on a mix of beer, whisky and wine (ambitions) and dance dance dance. There will be a morning where I will see a sunrise after being up all night talking. I will visit a museum every once in a while, with Gus. I will go on Vacation. I will beat this anxieties ass. And most importantly I will enjoy every minute watching Gus growing up, and try to give him a mom that has a life.