Hi, loves! Today is my BIRTHDAY!
Okay, so I fully admit to suffering from a bit of Peter Pan Syndrome, and have actually never really been one to make a big deal out of my special day each year. In fact, when I turned 30, I cried. Fo’ realz. But, despite not being a fan of distancing myself from my youth, I have come to find a bit of appreciation for the wisdom and experience I’ve gained in these more “mature” years. By the way, I’m sure many of you are laughing at my use of “mature”, given that I still think “shit your pants” stories are the funniest act in town. In any case, I’ve actively kept a journal since I was 11 years old. I don’t write every day, but a couple of times a week… and almost always on my birthday. Often times, I’ll write and never re-read my thoughts ever again. I’m not sure why. This morning however, I re-read my entry from my birthday last year, the day I turned 35. I was reflecting on being 34, and how it was just so beautiful of a year. Here’s what I wrote. Pardon my lack of eloquence. When I’m journaling, I tend to write freely, in streams of thought. Proper grammar tends to dissolve in these intimate moments.
p.s. I no longer begin each entry with “Dear Diary” but am still an emoji enthusiast… even in pen form ; )
“A new year. 35. WOW. I can still remember sitting on my bed at our house on Charles St., on my 15th birthday, writing in my journal… much like I am doing right now. I remember writing about my dreams, hopes, and wishes– all things that were important to a 15 year old (like getting my braces off, dating my crush, etc). Looking back, many of those things came true in some shape or form. I also distinctly remember wondering what I would be doing ten years from then. 25??? That seemed so far away and honestly, far enough away that it didn’t feel real. I remember writing that at 25, I would probably be married… maybe even have one or two kids. HAHAHAHA : ) Okay, so twenty years later that STILL hasn’t happened, although I am very happily married.
34 was probably my favorite year that I can remember. In many ways, I think it was so great because I decided to make it great. I decided to follow my bliss and passions, to live authentically, to be kinder… and not simply let life happen. I would happen to life. The irony is that committing to happiness also means accepting curve balls that come my way. Detaching from the outcome. Happiness is sort of like a crazy recipe or math equation– there’s always an X factor. But somehow it all works out in the end. This is of course a work in progress. It always has been, it’s just that now I am more aware of it and committed to working through the progress versus working against it. I don’t want to speculate where I’ll be in ten or twenty years, as I did when I was 15… because the possibilities that await in my future are far greater than those that I can mentally create in my current existence.
What I do know is that miracles happen every day. I simply have to be open enough to see them, and expect them.
I have no doubt that 35 will be even greater than 34, because I will make it so. : ) “
<insert little heart sign and a comma, Teeny>
I wasn’t joking though with that last line about being dedicated to making 35 even better than 34. I wrote that with the utmost conviction, and carried those sentiments with me throughout the last twelve months… through the good times, through the sad times, through the challenging times, and yes, through the miraculous times. Truthfully, they were all miraculous and I am grateful for the awareness that some of life’s greatest miracles begin as seeds of pain or struggle.
So what’s my plan for 36? Much of the same… being kinder never goes out of style, ya know? This next year, I will continue to cultivate my business, as helping others find their healthiest and happiest selves really is what lights up my world. I promise myself that I’ll follow the scents my creativity nose picks up, and entertain anything new that excites me. I’ll hear the whispers of fear in my head, but will listen to the strength of my heart. I am making the commitment to have more patience, especially with myself. I’ll continue to release the notion that everything has to be perfect, because self-improvement is often messy… and beautiful too. I will strive to be more apperceptive to the colors and sounds I frequent each day, even of those overcast, frigid, and damp. I tend to be a bit shy at expressing my love (i.e. not a hugger, unless your name is Travis), but I promise to be better at letting those I care for know, as authentically as I can.
And as always, I’ll make every effort to have an epic and really effing awesome year. See how much better I’ve gotten at not actually swearing? Making maturity moves, yo. ; )
(In my head, that still reads <3, Teeny. There will always be a 15 year old in all of us.)
p.s. Promise this is the last nostalgic barf session for a couple months : )