Sarah Morgan

Healthcare Geek.
Professional Communicator.


So. Thirty. Wow. (Not to be eloquent, or anything.)

I didn’t expect to feel ready for this great big milestone birthday, but I actually think I am. My twenties have been… well, a lot of things. Good and bad and big and little and – just a lot. And now, I guess I feel like I’m better at being me, sort of. I’m more like who I really am most of the time than I ever used to… but at the same time I think I’m awfully different than I used to be….

Ugh. I’m doing an awful job of explaining. Okay. There are two weird ways to sum it up.

First. I sing now.

Not on stage or anything, God no. Not even hardly ever in front of anybody. But before the last year or so, I always sang so quietly that I couldn’t even hear it myself. I hadn’t really sung out loud since I was about six.

And this is completely eye-rollingly maudlin, but true – it’s a lot because I’ve found people who sort of turn me up. Who sing (and don’t care if they’re off-key). Who play my game. Who let me hear their songs. Who tell me I’m not making enough noise.

So I doubt I’m any better than I ever was, which was never very good. But I’m finally loud enough to hear myself. I can hear what I’m singing. I can also hear what I want and what I don’t want. I’m loud enough to hear myself. And that is very good.

And the second… I use the word “home” now.

For most of my 20s, you wouldn’t hear me calling anyplace “home.” It was, internally, a very big deal to me. Because no place felt like home anymore. I was a nomad, a vagrant. “Home” was a word fraught with a lot of meaning, for me. It made me wistful. But now, I have people and places that feel like home. Moreover, I just feel at home in me, more. So it’s nice to casually be able to talk about “home.” That, also, is very good.

So who knows if 30’s the new 20. But either way, I’m okay with it. In my 20s I had nine mailing addresses in four years. Worked seven jobs. Got three promotions. Put myself through grad school. Totalled two cars. Hooked up, dated, got engaged. Got un-engaged, dated, hooked up. Traveled 14 countries. Watched little people grow up into amazing adults. Had people I loved die. Lost friends, made friends, reconnected with friends.

Some of that I’m phenomenally proud and happy about, and some of it I’m not. But it’s all made for a decade that I am so grateful for.

So. Thirty. Wow indeed.



what a wonderful post. wishing you the happiest of birthdays (belated), and knowing you will live your thirties to the fullest!


But… I’m NOT upset about it!


One thing I’ve found over the last year “ish”, is that people are much less sympathetic to hearing someone who is upset about turning thirty (especially if they’ve already dealt with it)… While I feel sorry for you on one hand, the other hand says things like “Ha Ha” and “Welcome to the club”.

Just be happy. 😉

Fade out with JT’s “Cry Me A River”…


I thought you were turning 25??

(Happy birthday!)

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