When I turned 21

This was me...

This was me, too.

My birthday was somehow a disaster most of the day. It was one of those days when I hate to admit that I let my hormones and what have you get the best of me. For some reason, I cried nonstop. And I feel terrible for my man who was doing everything he could for me and I kept sobbing uncontrollably. He made me breakfast and surprised me with gifts from all of my family. What an inconvenient day to just let it out.

And when I stop and try to think about why I was a complete mess, I can't pinpoint anything. It was a combination of turning another year older, turning 21, wanting to do things that day that just didn't ever happen, my daughter getting older by the day, considering the optimal age difference when having kids, taking a pregnancy test, the test being negative, finishing school, everything, everything, everything. I guess that explains the tears.

Then suddenly right around seven that night, I was done. I was ready to see the family and friends over at house that I so clearly said I didn't really want to see--and I was genuinely happy when they were here. We ate food and cake, played games, talked and joked. I was a roller coaster when I turned 21.

Oh. What. A. Birthday.