This is it, people. This is the year, and it’s my time. I’m now Patrick getting roped by Sandy in that one Spongebob meme. I’m now Joey Tribbiani literally screaming, “Why, God, why?” at the ceiling, surrounded by all of the Friends. I can now play Bo Burnham’s “30” on repeat, but only if I’m wearing headphones or when I’m alone in my car, and that’s okay.

I’m turning 30. And I’m actually kind of stoked.

I type this knowing full well that, by most accounts, I’m fairly privileged, and I’ve gotten pretty lucky to be where I am in my life. I’ve been married for several years, we have two happy, healthy kids, and we bought our first house. I’ve been able to live in and travel to different places. I have a college education, and I’ve held down multiple jobs. By this age, I’ve enjoyed really special experiences that people generally haven’t, no matter how old they are. Plus, we’ve had an incredible amount of love and support along the way. I realize that other 30 year olds and the rest of my generation can’t say the same. I try to remind myself every day of my blessings.

All of these things also took so much work and meant taking so many risks. All of it takes sacrifice and navigating through a hell of a lot of uncertainty, managing headaches, and healing from heartbreak. We literally had an enormous tree branch fall on the roof of our house. One of our cars currently doesn’t run. Both of those events — just in the past year! — and numerous others over time, from the bizarre to the mundane, put us in the hole and set us back.

Yet, I’m about to be 30, and I finally feel like I have more of my life in my own hands than ever before, and that’s super exciting to me. I’ll forever be thankful for the people that got me here and grateful for the lessons I’ve learned. I’ve been independent for a long time. However, I’m the most confident and certain I’ve ever been. Fixing a roof and fixing a car hurt in more ways I could even list, although at the same time, it’s our roof that’s over our heads, and it’s our car that gets us everywhere we want to go. So it has to be in our hands. Those hands are capable and worthy of getting the job done. They’ll continue to be despite everything that might come our way.

I do love all of the nihilistic humor about turning 30, the jokes like the ones I mentioned earlier. I understand I’m not as young as I used to be. Do I still fear death? Absolutely. And sure, I have some regrets because, seriously, who doesn’t? At the same time, though, I’m just not feeling that same sense of dread that specifically turning 30 seems to instill. What is it about that number?

Talk to me again when I’m 40; maybe I’ll feel differently then!