This last year has been the most difficult and dislodging one of my life.

But as my birthday approaches, I’ve been reflecting on where I am today. Truthfully, I’ve been surprised at how full I feel these days. At peace, whole, resolved, fierce. I have prayed, traveled, laughed, stretched, run, lifted, yoga’d, sung, dressed, raged, danced, meditated, explored, let go, written, cried, listened, whispered, begged, filmed, and read. Somewhere along the way, happiness was spoken back into my life.

And it is a different kind of happy.

Because it is mine.

It isn’t rooted in the past or in a soulmate, like it used to be. It isn’t predicated on being seen or accepted by others.

It isn’t wedded to fate or feeling like I have to fulfill some destiny.

It isn’t dependent on a job (or more often that not, the lack thereof), or in being in DC.

It is mine because I have worked on it. It’s mine because there were days when I didn’t work on it and I simply fell apart. It is mine because I have experienced belly laughs on my worst days. It is mine because I have experienced utter despair on my best days. And yet, I continued. I felt like the biggest failure. All of my worst fears were realized. I experienced so many setbacks. And yet, I continued.

This isn’t meant to be boastful; only reflective. I look back on this past year – which was the most difficult rebuilding process of my life – and I am proud of myself. I’m proud I dug deep. I rebuilt a shattered foundation. I did it on my own. But also with the help of others.

I feel full. I feel wholehearted. Brave. Loving. Excitable. Strong. Maybe not completely open, but I’m on my way. I’m excited for a future of exploration, aspirations and becoming wild.

I imagine my 27th year around the sun will be an ongoing exercise in assessing the contours of resilience and growth. My intention for this year is to continue to cultivate a deeper happiness, and to find every way possible to bring happiness to others.

“I was entering. I was leaving. California streamed behind me like a long silk veil. I didn’t feel like a big fat idiot anymore. And I didn’t feel like a hard-ass motherfucking Amazonian queen. I felt fierce and humble and gathered up inside, like I was safe in this world too.” – Cheryl Strayed, Wild