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©2020 by A Bloggin' Crow.

  • Lesli Crow

Hello, Thirty-One.


"In youth we learn, in age we understand." - Unknown

Damn, what a year I've had.


I've lost friends, gained some new ones, loved my job, hated my job, had my heartbroken a time or two by confused men, wanted to drop my son off at a fire station on numerous occasions, added an adorable nephew to my tribe, and somehow managed to keep my curls intact.


I made it to thirty-one. I didn't make it with much sanity but I made it.


I was super bummed to leave my twenties. I wasn't happy that I could no longer check the box saying I was under thirty. Now, my bones feel achy and staying up past 10:00 is a thing I could only handle in my twenties.


However, when I hit thirty I felt an immediate shift in my mindset. Whether it was towards friends, life goals, or my sweet parenting skills.

I've learned a lot about myself this past year. I feel like everybody has a theme song for their life. If you haven't found yours yet, listen harder. As of lately, mine is 'Naked by Ella Mai'. The lyrics give me all the feels.

When I started this blog a year ago, I wanted it to be an open diary. A way for people to see that I am every bit of fucked up, I'm not the perfect daughter or sister, I don't make the best mom life decisions, and I have days where I want to pack my bags and start over somewhere new.


If you don't know me in real life, please know that my blogs are 100% me. I am just as blunt, hilarious, sarcastic and adorably sweet in the flesh.


Moving on.


Social media has done a horrible job of making us think that everybody has their life together.

The women who can't post a photo without a face full of makeup because they feel more beautiful caked up, the men who flash their material things in every photo hoping that will attract the right woman, and the couples that are madly in love and do all the family things but fight constantly when there isn't a camera around or a Facebook post that needs to be published.


I do not have it all together. I struggle every day to be better than I was yesterday. I don't cook a healthy dinner every night, I'm late to work, I can go days without talking to people and not feel guilty, I pay my bills late, this list could go on and on but I'm not trying to write a novel. Not yet.

Someone once told me I need to find my anchor. That I'm a wild bird that doesn't want to be caged. Well, he was right about one thing. I am a wild bird that doesn't want to be caged.


I do not want an anchor. I want to spread these beautiful broken wings and see how far I can fly. If the people that come in my life can't handle this bird, they don't have to stick around.


I don't know what thirty-one will hold. Maybe I'll find that Prince Charming or maybe I'll finally paint the wall in my apartment that needs a new splash of color. Maybe, just maybe, I'll attempt one of the DIY projects I've saved on Pinterest from four years ago.

That is a crap ton of maybe's.

My mental health is not where I need it to be right now. I know that no matter what I do over the next year, I know I will practice more self-love. I'm not chasing behind men that can't do anything for me but an orgasm and I'm not going to add anymore friends to my circle that can't accept me for me.


Life moves quickly and my patience runs extremely thin for bullshit. If I could give advice to anybody reading this, it would be to "Be you. Do you. For you."


You're fuckin worth it.