[ezcol_1third] This time last year, right before my thirtieth birthday, I wrote a post that resonated with many of you who related to my milestone freak-out. Turning 30 scared me in a way I never expected. It's wasn't about new wrinkles or a slowing metabolism (although they had been duly noted!) It was all about how stable and sorted life seemed to be. I felt anxious about whether I was adequately prepared for the unavoidable fact that I had well and truly reached adulthood, unready for the parenthood which suddenly seemed possibly, frighteningly, just around the corner, and I wondered if I might have some catching up to do.

On the surface, my resume didn't compare favourably with more established peers. Mr. Spring and I had both been perennial students, floating through our twenties exploring interesting place and taking on exciting projects, unconstrained by demanding grown-up responsibilities. It was fun, but was it sustainable?

As my birthday came and went, so too did the worry. But out of that uncomfortable moment's pause a reckoning was reached that brought clarity and a fresh sense of optimism to the whole picture. Adult responsibility, it turns out, can also be freeing, giving us the confidence to stop asking permission and finally run our own race. What followed was a year of huge changes - Mr. Spring and I moved back to Brisbane where we'd been happiest, he started work as a teacher and writer and I threw caution to the wind and started The Spring Shop. At 20, with all the confidence in the world, I could never have dreamed this up. At 30, not only do we have the skills to make things happen, we have the energy coupled with enough life experience to take our vision further than our younger selves ever could.

If only a Ghost of Birthdays Future could have shown my 29 year old self how many possibilities would present themselves this year I might have enjoyed my last birthday a little more... so, in light of what I now know to be true (that my 30s are awesome) I'll be celebrating this one twice as hard.

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