Well, here it is. My 30th birthday.
I’m sitting here in an Uber, typing this out as that day is only a few hours away. Naturally, this imminent occasion inspires my wistful self to largely think of the past. Specifically, I’m thinking of people I wish were here. My Uncle Doug. My grandma. My cousin Mickey. Friends who were taken too soon. I wish I could hug them today. Shoot them a text to say hi. I’d give anything to talk about Broadway shows with Uncle Doug or do a puzzle with grandma one more time I yearn for that on so many days, but especially times like these.
Life is finite. The people who we think will be there forever (after all, they’ve been there ever since we were born) are as susceptible to this reality as anyone. As I get older, this seemingly obvious part of reality grows increasingly tangible.
Despite my tendency to reminiscence, I’m not one of those people who thinks their best years were only in the past. You couldn’t pay me to relive one day of being 16 or any other age before I started estrogen or realized I was trans. So much discomfort I couldn’t put into words. So much pain I couldn’t articulate. So much obliviousness over what glorious social connections were waiting for me once I realized I shouldn’t self-hate my autism or ignore my transness. Yesteryear is not where my joy lies. I dearly miss figures from those eras of my life, but not the eras themselves.
These are some of the realities running through my brain as 30 fast approaches. Man, that’s an age I never thought I’d get to when I was younger. Existence itself was so tumultuous in, say, my teenage years that just getting to the end of a day felt like an accomplishment. “There was no way I’ll live to be [insert age here]” I’d contemplate as I focused on surviving another day of 11th grade. Now I’m here, at an age that once seemed like it would elude me. What a weird experience, making what was impossible for your younger self potent reality.
I’m closing my eyes now in this silver-colored Uber, letting the glistening street lamps beam down on this metallic chariot at it guides me home. A small smile creeps upon my face remembering all the songs I associate with various parts of my life. 60s/70s tunes like “Love Grows Where My Rosemary Goes” that my mom played for me endlessly when I was eight. Scrambling to finish homework in 10th grade while Eric Church’s “Springstreen” blared in my headphones. Tapping my toes to “My Big French Boyfriend” while me and Uncle Doug watch the Toxic Avenger stage musical. Clinging to the Anna & the Apocalypse and Stop Making Sense soundtracks in the earliest weeks of COVID-19.
Right now, Ida Maria’s “Dirty Money” is coursing through my ears. Soon, it too shall intertwine with this moment in my mind. Perhaps in the future I won’t be able to listen to this tune without catching a hint of the lavender scent permeating this Uber. Time moves forward, but there are ways the past permanently sticks with us. Like the kindness of people like Uncle Doug. Or a catchy tune informing some of your most impactful memories. These elements let flickers of yesterday burn bright into today and tomorrow.
Eventually, my Uber drops me off at my friend's and we head out to our eventual destination: a sapphic and lesbian trivia night. Nearly everyone here is a stranger, yet we quickly acclimate to some new dyke, non-binary, and gay af pals. This is the kind of local social endeavor I spent the first 24 years of my life thinking I'd never engage in. I had resigned myself to being alone (save for my internet chums) up to that point. In June 2021, when social plans with some local online queer folks went awry and I was left holding back tears in Denny's, I was further convinced these kinds of outings were not meant for me. Better to go home, shut the door, and never leave my home rather than risk ever again being so distraught while crunching on a Denny's burger.
Yet, I kept on pursuing social events. That led me to discover the closest friends in my life over the following two years. Meanwhile, over so many of these social events, I've uncovered so many fascinating people with engrossing passions. You never know who you'll encounter when you exit your door. A former star of The Real Housewives of Dallas. A manager of an electronics recycling store. A playwright. Another person who loves Titane and Possession with all their heart. Leaving my apartments means I could encounter groping and predatory men, which is terrifying. Maybe I'll end up dabbing away tears in a Denny's again. However, the allure of being privy to the gloriousness of other kind people (not to mention my extroverted tendencies) ensures I don't just stay within my own four walls.
There's always something amazing out there to experience. Even in an overstimulating multi-level eatery inexplicably doing Harry Potter trivia night (an event that this social gathering's organizers didn't realize was happening, they thought it was general trivia), the elation of meeting new faces endures. That's one of the best parts of existence. It also mirrors another passion of mine I may have mentioned once or twice before: movies.
One way I calmed myself down as a kid was reciting the schedule of upcoming movies (which I'd recited by heart) to myself. Thinking about all the motion pictures penciled in for release in the "far away" realms of 2010 and 2011. There's always something new to experience in the cinema world and not just with fresh releases. I couldn't begin to count the days where I stumbled onto an acclaimed movie I'd somehow never heard of before. How wonderful to uncover gems like Fail Safe and About Elly that I didn't know about this time last year and have their outstanding filmmaking forever carve an impression on my brain.
These are the films that reaffirm why I love this artform. Honestly, even just going to the theater itself is an act that reaffirms that passion too. Just sitting in a darkened room, detached from the outside world for a few hours (wooo, no phones!), and sharing a communal experience with strangers, it hasn't lost its luster over 30 years.
You have to discover miracles like theatrical moviegoing or the joys of meeting new queer souls to get through life. Existence is challenging and good God, was 2025 no exception for me on that front. Countless were the days I felt so groggy that I could barely move. Equally immeasurable were the nights when the clutches of imposter syndrome and dysphoria gripped me. Oh, and there's also that fascist government spreading hate for every marginalized group possible, including trans and autistic folks (hey, that's me!). It's all so overwhelming that it's often impossible to comprehend.
In the face of my mental health struggles and real-world horrors, I choose to cling to hope, optimism, and the joys found in everyday life. To quote a wise Raymond Wang, "When I choose to see the good side of things, I'm not being naive. It is strategic and necessary. It's how I've learned to survive through everything." It's been a long road to get to 30 years old. The kindness of friends and fleetingly seen souls alike is a key reason I'm still here, finishing this essay up on my birthday morning. Despite my struggles with absorbing compliments and being kind to myself, right now, I'm also feeling a little bit of pride over what I've accomplished in my life.
Ten years ago, I never could've imagined I'd eventually take a plane ride all alone to New York City to meet online queer chums in person for the first time.
Five years ago, I never thought I'd start taking estrogen.
Four years ago, I thought it was impossible that I'd ever live independently.
Ten years and one month ago, I'd never seen movies like Yojimbo, The Gleaners And I, Carol, Kokomo City, and Lady Bird that would forever change my life.
Four years ago, I'd never spent an hour strolling down a walking trail with one of my best pals, laughing my head off as we traded Smiling Friends quotes back-and-forth.
Three years ago, I never had this beautiful moment from last night that started with me standing with my head down in front of my bathroom mirror wearing a pink dress (with pockets!!!) and foundation and concealer on my face. Suddenly, I just looked up, saw my reflection in the mirror, and my brain instinctively thought, "who is that lady?"
That's me. The lady who has survived a lot over 30 years of life. The lady who will survive a lot more. The lady immensely grateful for the kind people in her life, good movies, and the everyday joys making existence bearable.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to prepare for my screening of The Secret Agent tonight. OMG I get to see a Kleber Mendonça Filho film on the big screen for the first time, now there's a birthday gift.
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