On Friday, I celebrated being alive 20 years. That's a long time.

Two decades. Two hundred and forty months. Twenty opportunities to celebrate a birth.

Any way that you look at it, it's intimidating. There's a certain pressure that comes with existing for an extended period of time. Well, I've made it this far. Now what?

The answer is: I have no idea.

When I was younger, the age of 20 seemed like such a foreign concept. I assumed that, obviously, I would have my life figured out by that point in my life. Adults know what they're doing, right? Though the answer to that question may be laughable now, it was perfectly acceptable in the mind of a 10-year-old. Heck, when I was 15, I expected to move to California the summer after my senior year of high school so I could attend UCLA. Let's just say I may have a history with dreaming a bit too broadly.

Back to the present, though, I had increasingly become more anxious as November 18, approached. I didn't really know what to expect. I've been a teenager for six years now, how do I prepare for the realization that true adulthood is imminent? Not the anticipation of turning eighteen, when you're legally an adult and feel some freedom from your parents and other "oppressive" ruling classes. Or the feeling of nineteen, being accustomed to perceived adulthood for about a year and feel like you know a lot more than those younger than yourself. But 20? Not feeling as much of the freedom, but more of the pressures that come with adulthood. By the time a person is 20 years old, they've usually had a job, some college experience, and a plethora of life experiences.

If we're being completely honest, I'm living a rather unique life at the moment. I am a college freshman (second-time), living with my parents, and I just turned 20 years old.

Yeah, I know.

But life doesn't always make sense. Sometimes, we go down paths and roads that we wouldn't expect to travel. That has been a majority of my life thus far, unexpected journeys. I didn't expect to attend school in Denton for a year, but I also didn't expect to transfer to Baylor either. Some of my experiences are still so unrealistic to me because I could never have foreseen making those decisions. Yet have happened and I'm living in their results, which proves to be a mixture of blessings and curses.

With these ideas in mind, one can see why having yet another birthday, venturing further into adulthood, could prove to be stressful. I admit that waking up Friday morning, these type of anxious thoughts did plague my mind. Thankfully, not for long.

Some argue that a person should rely on their own abilities to be happy and not on the kindness (or lack thereof) of others. I agree, to an extent. However, my family and friends impact my mental state heavily. I cannot help it, I am an emotionally-driven person who feeds off of the moods and feelings of others. While you can accurately assume that this is a setback sometimes, mostly, I find it to be helpful. And, as you could probably guess from my title, my family and friends made my birthday into a special day.

Though my mom wasn't able to be with me physically for a majority of the day, her presence was clear. And where she could not directly shower me with love and positivity, my father, my brother, my grandparents, and, most notably, my friends stepped into the role.

My dearest friends, especially those in the theatre department with me, made me feel a happiness that I have been lacking for some time now. Friends who gave me letters with gracious compliments, friends who led the class in singing "happy birthday," a friend who bought me and the rest of the class donuts, a friend who bought me a cake. So many more instances of blessings, both small and large, by friends and acquaintances, made the day into something memorable. But it didn't stop there.

I was able to meet with my mom for a nice dinner, where we talked about the day. Even though the night did not go as initially planned, I found not complaints. I enjoyed every minute of it, which is all that matters. Saturday morning, I visited friends of mine in Denton. Regardless of how miserable I was at that point in my life, I made two very special friendships that I've made an effort to keep strong. Then, I was able to come back to Waco that night and sleep in at my friend's apartment, which I planned to house-sit for the next few days.

Then, Sunday night happened.

Me and three of my closest, most beloved friends at the apartment. That was it. And it was the most amazing night I've had in a long time.

We watched a ton of movies, ate Bush's Chicken, laughed at our own horrifically inappropriate jokes, asked existential questions, learned even more about each other than previously known, talked about our own artistic work, and so much more. Being able to sit on a couch with three of the most important people in my life and just exist joyed me to no end. Though my actual birthday was special, the overall weekend proved to be total package.

So, how I survived my 20th birthday, you ask? With love. And friendship. And coffee. But most importantly, lots of love.

Thank you to mom, dad, Derian, my dearest grandmothers, my fellow theatre majors and my other, wonderful friends.

But even moreso, thank you to Maddi Pearl, Kylie, and Dan.

Also: thanks to God for making it all happen. The true M.V.P.