All too soon, it is my birthday again – well, almost.

Later this week I turn 31 and honestly, I don’t know why I was so worried about ticking away the last year of my 20s. Approaching it, I was full of dread. I don’t know what I expected to happen; nothing changed the day I turned 30. I was still me, but now I have to scroll a little further when I select my age bracket on some forms.  Okay, I’ll admit, that part still kinda stings because I’m pretty sure I was 12 only a few years ago and it feels wrong to select “30-35.”

I am still waiting for the all-knowing wisdom that comes with age to arrive, though. Mine must have gotten snarled up in the mail during the Black Friday rush. I will continue to patiently await its highly anticipated appearance.

The first year into my 30s was kicked off with a delightful case of COVID and the flu, so right off the bat I was guaranteed it was all looking up from there. My joke about celebrating my 30th birthday with a “funeral of my youth” theme struck a little close to home as I lay entombed in my bed and alternating fever reducers while I coughed until my ribs hurt. You would think I would have learned my lesson and got my flu shot this year, but I did not – again, still waiting for the promised wisdom.

I’m not going to pretend I didn’t learn anything at all this year or felt as old as the hills – because I did. I learned to sweat the small stuff a little less, care about the big stuff a little more and that so long as you enjoy what you spend your time on, it doesn’t really matter if you are doing it “right.”

I draw in my free time and I’ve long pressured myself to improve, to the point I at one time put the pencil down for a year before I could scrape together the enthusiasm to draw. This year, I just drew. I didn’t push myself to draw everything perfect. Sometimes I didn’t even look at references. I don’t remember, prior to this year, the last time I drew without at least a handful of reference photos to help me along so I could tweak and redraw the same line a million times over until it was just-so. My style has definitely shifted into something more free-form and cartoony, but I honestly have no complaints. I’m just happy doing it, which is what matters to me.

I’ve decided to pick up more things on a “just because I want to” basis instead of stressing so much over if something is worth it, such as learning to speak Irish. I still keep my daily practice up, for anyone who is wondering.

All joking aside, I’m grateful for another year.  I hope to step into 31 without being horrifically sick. I feel as though if I can do at least that, I will have a leg up on the next year.

Standard reporter Nikki Childers can be contacted at design@southernstandard.com