So today was my 30th birthday. I’m actually writing this a few days later, as I made the decision to not to anything on my actual birthday day and instead just be generally lazy and slob around and ask R to do everything. Which actually worked out pretty nicely for me, in hindsight.

My birthdays are always quiet affairs. I don’t actually cope very well with celebrating anything of my own, which apparently is a common feature among people who have anxiety disorders. I tend to end up in tears, and this year was no different. It isn’t the ageing – although of course I’d prefer this didn’t happen – so much as it is the pressure of knowing you have to organise something and cross your fingers that people will turn up. It’s far too much. So quiet and small and understated are all key words that tend to crop up with increased frequency in my vocabulary as the day draws nearer.

With regards to celebrating, I moved into the house over the weekend, so had the pleasure of seeing both R and Errol when I woke up.

In the evening we went out for drinks with just a few select friends, then R and I went for dinner, just us two. The cocktails we had at Mojo, which is an awesome little bar at the top of town, tucked down an side alley. The bartender looked totally bemused when I asked if he would be able to make me a custom cocktail shot, but acquiesced to making me a Cookie Monster nonetheless. Birthday Cookie Monster, yay! By this point I was absolutely shitfaced, but the restaurant was nearly empty so it didn’t really matter and the food was just that right level of spiciness to level my head out.

I guess I haven’t done as much by this age as I would have liked. But then, I am fully aware that I place far too much pressure on myself, and this is actually a huge contributing factor to my not getting things done in the manner or timeframe in which they should be done. I should feel blessed. I do feel blessed. I have a fiance, a career, a home, a cat and a pile of unread books so high that I’m not going to want for reading material for the rest of the year. So yes, I am blessed. But I want more. 30 is my age to try and make that happen.

In the meantime, thanks to R for my birthday present and for loving me and for being the best partner I could wish for. Thanks to my friends for showing up and getting me drunk and not expecting too much. And thanks to everyone else who wished me a happy birthday, just for taking the time to say something nice.