In just over a month, I turn 30.
I can’t believe this.
I always thought I would have accomplished certain things by age 30. Graduating college, marrying, having children. Not being bulimic or depressed.
I haven’t accomplished any of that.
In fact, off the top of my head, I can’t tell you a single thing I haveaccomplished.
I don’t have a job and I can’t work. I’m in school, but I’m not doing great because bulimia is kicking my butt right now. I live with my parents again. I don’t even have the energy to set up my exercise bike.
I have never minded getting older. I was never worried about wrinkles or grey hairs. Being asked my age never bothered me.
However, all of a sudden, about 10 minutes ago, it hit me. I will be 30. And for some reason I can’t explain, I am terrified at the prospect.