I think it's a certain amount of amazement. I don't think I ever expected to live to see 30. During all the time that I was a drug addict, during my years of alcoholism, when I was stabbed in the chest, during life-or-death conflicts, all these times, I had moments where I thought it was over for me. Even later, I looked at myself, and fully expected to be dead by now. I never looked on it as a bad thing, just as a fact.
I know I've screwed up a lot of my life. With one wonderful exception, I can't say I'm pleased with what I've done with it so far. I've had plenty of chances, plenty of opportunities to make myself great, and I've had the resources to do so...but somehow, I didn't. Whether this was laziness or self-defeat, known or unknown, is a soul-search for another time.
The reality, though, is that for all I've screwed myself over, for all the mistakes, for all the times that I have been faced with my own mortality, I'm still here. True, in a material sense, I have little to show for 30 years on the planet, much less than most, and much less than maybe I should. I don't have the education I should, nor the career I'd like, nor the possessions or prestige or position I could have achieved. I don't have the child I always wanted. I have situations which I have no control over, buit which affect me, and which are considerably less than optimum.
But in another sense, I have a wealth beyond my imagining. I have intelligence, wisdom and experience, and it allows me to be the teacher/friend/mentor/psychiatrist/sound
So, maybe that's it. Maybe it's just that, for the first time in forever, I'm faced with something I didn't really expect, and didn't have a 'gameplan' for. That's OK, though. It's nice, for a change, to not know where I'm going, but to just be on the way.
Happy Birthday to me.