It’s less than two weeks away from my 36th birthday, and I’m having another identity crisis. It’s like a one-part identity crisis and one-part hormonal meltdown really.

I don’t swear (here) too often, but… HOW THE FUCK AM I TURNING 36?!

Working my way from 35 to 36 hasn’t been too tragic. You know, “Meh. Another birthday.” once I finally got over the last one. I mean, you want a tragedy, you should have been around me when I was approaching 35. Woof. But the closer my next birthday gets, the more I am absolutely. freaking. out. Again. Me, the person who used to LOVE birthdays so much that she celebrated for an entire month.

I’m questioning everything in my life: past choices that I can’t even change if I wanted to (a to-do list of life redos, if you will), relationship ghosts and friends who suck (from a wtf happened kind of perspective), why I can’t find work (am I unmotivated, unexperienced or uneducated?)… sexuality stuff (typical day-in-the-life of a 30-something female with raging hormones). Why I spent so much on my credit card last year to make myself feel better about turning 35? Ugh. I’m both reminiscing too much and hoping for too much. EXPECTING too much. Paying too much in interest. Repeat: questioning everything. Which is destroying my psyche and my mojo. I feel off balance and that All of the Things are amiss.

I am pissed at the world because of it. Because of getting another year older. Or because I feel like my life is unraveling right now because of being older. Fuck. I don’t like being angry. But I’m angry.

To say I need therapy is an understatement.

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