Thirty, Flirty & Thriving?

Wait, what do you mean I'm thirty?!

Thirty. Huh. What a weird milestone. Some people get a lot of anxiety about getting older - some because of the physical implications that come along with that. Stretchier, softer skin, wrinkles, gray hair, etc. Sometimes, it’s more mental. People craving simpler times, a happier past, and just struggling to look forward, due to their present circumstances. Growing older without a loved one, growing older than guardian angels. Growing closer to death. When you think about it that way, it’s easy to understand mid-life crises. I know I’ve definitely joked about a quarter-life crisis.

I was about to say I’ve never been scared of getting older but I’m just now realizing that is only partially true. I have never feared my birthday in the sense of growing farther from youth. I’ve never feared my birthday thinking about eventual gray hair and wrinkles. I’ve always seen birthdays as a celebration, because that’s how I grew up. My parents always celebrated me, whether it was my birthday or a regular day. And I know that’s a privilege. When another day around the sun came, I’d think: cool, I’m another year older and I get to celebrate with my favorite people. And each year as I became older, and hopefully a little wiser, I realized what a gift it is to age.

Despite that, I’ve never quite made one of those famous five or ten year plans. And I’d say that’s okay; I’ve just never been good at picturing the future, especially before kids. However, all my life, I’ve still made my own plans. I’ve made lists, resolutions, goals, to-do’s. It’s really easy to do on a birthday. Especially a birthday that falls the day after Christmas, wedged in right before New Year’s. First goal is always to lose weight, let’s be real. Other goals: meal plan, meal prep, exercise routine, friend dates, husband dates, kid dates, chore schedule. The list goes on and on and on. And so does life. Friendships develop, drift, and evolve. Mental struggles are a freakin roller coaster. Kids get sick. We get sick. Loved ones get Sick. You learn about addiction. You learn about a friend’s marriage problems. You learn about your friend’s baby in the NICU. You learn about a friend’s loss. You wonder just how neurodivergent your child is and obsess if it’s in your head. You start to realize just how anxious you actually are and that you’re not managing it. You know loved ones are getting older. You deal with crippling anxiety one year and increased depression the next. “You” here, is me - in case anyone is confused. Although I know these instances are universal and so relatable.

If you know me and have followed my personal posts I occasionally share online, some of this will be a little repetitive. Twenty-eight and twenty-nine have been two of the hardest years of my life. Twenty-eight consisted of anxiety like never before. The kind where you wake up nauseous with a racing heart, not knowing how you’ll get out of bed. Not able to eat. Being angry about needing therapy. Being angry about a lot. Twenty-nine was the year of debilitating back pain every day for 11 months, starting in February. Hating the winter because I couldn’t move, everyone is stuck inside, and WHERE was the sunshine? Hating that I just wanted to work out for the first time since having Emmi 2.5 years ago and this is how my body repays me. Hating every day of summer because I couldn’t move and my sweet, energetic, high-sensory-needs boy makes 20 minutes feel like 2 hours when I can’t move and can’t do the “plans” that he wants to do. Between my limitations and trying to keep Noah happy, I missed Emmi who was in the same room as us, but always seemed distant considering Noah sits on my stomach like he’s a lap dog. Getting a pain doctor. Getting two back injections. Starting at SNRI. It’s very confusing to be so anxious - a disguise for caring about so many things but in an unhealthy, unmanageable way - and yet, so depressed you don’t know how you’ll go on. Since I’m being candid: I was never suicidal but I could not imagine living how I was, for the rest of my life and I felt like I couldn’t look forward to growing older. Above, I said “I was about to say I’ve never been scared of getting older but I’m just now realizing that is half false.” This past year, I was feeling scared to get older. I was 29, feeling like I was 80, and didn’t see any relief in sight. After my second injection, a week later, I had to go to the emergency room because the pain was just increasing so much. I couldn’t do anything without crying. Getting into bed, out of bed, sitting down in the bathroom, wiping myself (yikes), getting dressed, showering. You get the point. I couldn’t do basic things, so you know I wasn’t keeping the house in order. Devlin carried the team on his back. His strong back, with a heavy mental load. His strong endurance, grace, and empathy was constant as I was down for the count.

I quite literally prayed every day for 11 months: “Dear Jesus, please heal my back, my hips, my butt, and my spine.” Oh yeah, it wasn’t just my back. It radiated and flared sciatic pain. I couldn’t sit in the car comfortably. Any plans that were over 20 minutes away were rejected. I had to cancel plans and constantly worry if I would be up for potential commitments. My hip was always popping. Like I said, I felt like I was 80 and didn’t know how I was going to keep living like this. As I write and reflect, even now, it’s wild to think about how dark this past year was for me, and yet, how much light broke through. These kinds of things, they bring you to your knees. For me, metaphorically and physically, lol. I cried a lot but I also started praying more than I had in a long time. I remember about 3 months into my chronic pain, I was overcome with intense anxiety while laying in bed. Devlin was asleep next to me. I started to literally say: “Jesus, I need you.” I said it repeatedly for at least 5 times and I felt the anxiety leave my body. I got up and went in the living room and started crying and just praying over and over for the pain to leave me. If the anxiety could evaporate, maybe the pain could. The Holy Spirit told me: one day, you will feel better. You will be healed. I wanted to experience that healing immediately. I was still crying but thought: okay, God. I’m eagerly and impatiently waiting to see how I can use this for Your glory. And I was still quite scared because sometimes, healing and resolutions mean one thing to us, and another thing to God. I thought back to what I was physically saying in bed before I came to the living room: God, I need you. There is a song called “Lord, I Need You” and I looked up the lyrics.

“So teach my song to rise to You

When temptation comes my way

And when I cannot stand, I'll fall on You

Jesus, You're my hope and stay

Lord, I need You, oh, I need You

Every hour, I need You”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LuvfMDhTyMA

When I cannot stand I’ll lean on Him. Jesus is my hope in the darkness. I need Him every hour. I need Him when I’m healthy and unhealthy, when I can stand and when I cannot, when I’m happy and sad. I now have a tattoo that says: I need You. If you’ve followed me for a while, you also may know I like to write the occasional poem and this was one I wrote 6 months into my chronic pain - a month after I got my first back injection that didn’t work. I cry every single time I read this poem, not because I think I’m a wonderful poet, but because I remember how I felt when I wrote it and how low I felt, even with my faith reminding me of the Good News.

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Healing

People get sick

People start praying

Praying to a God they don’t believe in

But I’ve been sick

and I’ve been praying

Twenty nine years I’ve been believing

Sick in the head

Sick in the soul

I’m trying to trust and fix this hole

I’m an anxious mess

But so depressed I’m numb

One minute I’m happy and the next I’m dumb

I didn’t expect this

For it to be this hard

My heart is breaking down to shards

In a fit of rage

I’ll yell what the hell

The strength in me shrinks while sadness swells

I’m reactive at home,

A bad mom in some ways

I’d love to feel peaceful one of these days

Not a good wife

Doesn’t my husband deserves it?

A partner that reciprocates and makes him feel worth it

I’ve known these feelings

My brain has fed these lies

But this time physical pain makes me cry

My body hurts

My spirit sways

I don’t always know what to pray

It could be worse

Good luck with validation

It’s not like it’s cancer, just try meditation

I feel quite lost

I’m tired and empty

But I try to remember God promises plenty

It won’t be fast

It could be slow

But God has a plan, this I know

I’m holding on

I know there’s much to do

I’ll take care of me and maybe you too

I’m not perfect

Not even close

But I will remember the Truth I know

The perfect gift

God sent his Son

To know me, forgive me, and find the one

I’m a little sick

With tears like rain

Pain in my body and pain in my brain

I don’t know much

But I feel a lot

The good and the bad are tangled in knots

Maybe you’re lost

Trying to find your way back like me

Jesus calms the storm in the raging sea

People get sick

People start praying

And seeing God on their way to healing

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It was a rough year. For most of us, probably. Life is heavy and hard. But it’s beautiful, as cheesy as that is. Despite my circumstances, my depression and anxiety, I felt so cared for. My husband carried the weight of my struggles these past two years especially, and never once made me feel less than. My family supported me endlessly. My friends supported me with prayers, meals, quality time, and watching my children. My doctors made me feel cared for even when things didn’t go how I wanted. I joined the gym and did what I could with the help of my favorite trainer, Aaron. I thought last year was my year for my business, but it only got better this year. My clients make me feel on top of the world. I powered through most sessions and felt so much grace for the sessions I had to reschedule. I desire to go to Church again. I’ve managed to lose weight in a healthy, sustainable way. I’m wearing jewelry again, trying to do my hair and makeup (occasionally), and wearing fun colors. I felt really dull this year, but I still managed to find my sparkle, miraculously. Some days I’m still holding on to that mustard seed of faith and some days it’s just the constant that I’ve grown up with and known all my life. I’ve not been this close to God in a while and that’s been the biggest blessing. I learned really early on that if anything, I would grow closer to God as well as take my health seriously and control what I could. I’ve now been pain free for close to two months. Some days I wonder how this has happened. Some days I forget that this was not my reality two months ago. Sometimes, I feel that worry creep in that it’s a matter of time before I’ll be in pain again, unable to do the basics. Maybe, I’ll be healed for a long time, maybe I won’t. I just know I’ll pray over it every day, and take it one day at a time if I need to.

Thirty? Yes

Flirty? Ehh, I’m trying, Devlin 😆

Thriving? Depends on the day.

But I’m so grateful for what twenty nine taught me. I'm excited to see what this year holds. I’m excited to make plans. I’m excited for God’s plans. I’m excited for thirty.

All the best,

Morgan