I turned 30 on Sunday.

30.

I have yet to completely wrap my head around it. I don't know what it means. If it means anything at all. It's a number, a number indicating how many years I have lived. 30 of them. 30 wonderful, heart breaking, exciting, terrifying years. And all I can think about is that I want them to stop increasing. Not because I want to be young and stay that way. But because the older I get the older my grandmother gets. My mother gets. My husband gets. My friends get. My sister gets. I do not fear my mortality, but the mortality of those that I love more than myself.

I am 30 and I can honestly say I have no regrets. I wouldn't go back and change an action or a thought because they have caused me to be where I am in this exact moment. I wouldn't change that for any amount of money.

I am 30 and I am so fucking blessed to have people in my life who sacrifice for me. Who scheme and lie just to put a smile on my face. I spent my birthday weekend with the three people in this world who I feel nothing but love from. No disappointments or strings, just love and thinking about it brings tears to my eyes.

I am 30 and I may not have a career in some high rise building bringing in mad baller cash, but I am loved dammit. I feel it every single day. I am loved for who I am, not a front that I put up. I am loved and I love in return.

I am 30 and I wouldn't want to be anywhere else than where I am right now.