the screaming has stopped, the swelling’s gone down, and my quarter-life crisis is well under way

This past Thursday was my birthday, the twenty-forth anniversary of my screaming, swollen-nosed entrance into this freakshow called life.

I have friends who celebrate their birthdays for days, planning their parties months in advance to ensure maximum attendance and flawless execution. I, on the other hand, prefer understated to extravagant when it comes to commemorating my birth. Usually, a few phone calls and a celebratory adult beverage (or two) are enough to satisfy me. In regard to my birthday, I’m remarkably easy to please.

Twenty-four should have been a great birthday, and, at times (see: when listening to the voicemail Frans left, featuring an impressively tone-deaf—sorry Frans—rendition of “Happy Birthday”) it was. But, in addition to the well wishes and the Maker’s Mark, Thursday also brought about the end of a relationship and the subsequent loss of a very good friend. Not the best way to begin a new year.

I was legitimately upset by the birthday occurrences, still angry about a recently received and ill-advised email, and saddened by the (temporary, I hope) dissolution of a friendship I’ve held in (mostly) high regard. Severing ties with someone I care greatly about is not my idea of an ideal birthday, and doing so has certainly colored my experience this year.

But in spite of all unpleasant events and undesired outcomes, I am secretly celebrating this birthday more enthusiastically than all those that have come before. For the first time in far too long, I can sincerely say that I’m happy. And while this might seem sort of simple, for me it’s pretty huge, and certainly a reason to party.

I’ve grown more in the past twelve months than in the previous five years combined, having finally abandoned my indulgent self-destruction in favor of a future (for which I have recently formulated a tentative, return-to-school plan). My truth-telling, bullshit-calling friends have done much to make my happiness possible, and I am infinitely grateful for their help with my head-from-ass extraction. I’m not sure I could have done it alone.

And although my friendship with G. has been forfeited for now, I feel lucky to have had him in my life this past year. He’s (somehow) allowed me to see myself differently—more clearly, perhaps—and time spent with him (more often than not) has helped make me proud of the woman I am.

Twenty-four didn't come without a few tears. But it’s definitely been my best birthday so far.

Also: I would like to thank my mom (and her impressively (and painfully, no doubt) accommodating lady part) and my dad, who can't seem to keep their hands off each other, and without whom none of this would have even been possible. I heart you guys.