I am not an excited for birthdays kinda person, it’s usually an intimate gathering with friends, food and cold weather. But this year I was inclined to making a deal about it because 30 years is something. Then came the nightmare of a pandemic, jolting our everyday life and existence. What followed was a rollercoaster journey of anxiety laced with sanitizer and hand washes, cooking shenanigans, virtual everything, appreciating the golden/ purple hour, day-night merging work schedules, etc.
Living in a world inundated with done to death words from unprecedented to new world order, I had forgotten about the pre-meditated excitement of turning 30. Also, too much happened in personal and professional life keeping me distracted from the fact that my usual people wouldn’t be around. Or that I’d be celebrating in the new normal with a bunch of new people in a new stage of life.
I had plans/ checklists for when I become 30, right now they are in some corner of my bedside drawer mocking me. I’m nowhere close to what/ where I wanted to be when hit this milestone age. But I have a sense of contentment and gratitude, complimented a new wave of nervousness, a whole new set of existential questions and the joy of finding someone who has volunteered to join along this paraphernalia of life, existence and beyond.
Anyway, like every year, I sat down on my birthday night with a piece of cake for the annual tradition of going over life till now to marinate in some self loathing and wallowing. I tried hard to concentrate but all I could think of is that I lived and loved through a pandemic with essentials from people to product intact. Sure there were some moments of breakdown and a strong urge to up and leave everything to cocoon in misery. But hey, to err (cry) is human! So I celebrated in the new normal, bought a new mask, took a couple of days to process and made a note to remember that I have to fill 30 against my age in all paperwork now on.
sindulgence 