In less than 3 hours, I’ll be 28. I don’t have any particularly strong feelings about it, surprisingly. With Hurricane Irma just days away, I don’t even fully feel like it’s almost my birthday. I barely remember it’s almost the 7th.

A year ago, on the night before my 27^th birthday, I wrote 27 Intentions. It felt right, needed, triumphant, and appreciative. I was so ready to welcome a new year into my world. But it felt like immediately after I pressed “publish”, my life began to unravel.

Since then, I’ve stopped writing. Stopped yoga-ing. Stopped documenting for my 3-second-a-day video project. Stopped feeling so solid and brave. I don’t really know why. I just…lost the drive. I lost…something. And since, I’ve felt endlessly adrift.

I’m trying to find it again.

I’m trying to find my place in this world. A place that feels somewhat solid and wholly my own. I don’t have many deep lessons from my 27^th year around the Sun – I suppose they’re all still in the process of unfolding. In the meantime, I try to remind myself that the person I was one year ago was exactly who I needed to be to survive this past year. That pressing “publish” was a call to arms of sorts, a way to remind myself of how strong I was and how far I had come.

I try to be patient with myself and to savor the sweeter moments in my life. They are plentiful and deeply needed, even when I forgot to record them.

The last words before my 27^th birthday was: “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 right about resilience and growth. I almost wish I wasn’t haha.

For my 28^th year around the sun, I hope to unfold. By that I mean, I want to acknowledge and understand that nothing is a fixed point. Happy days. Shitty days. Days when we feel overlooked at work and forgotten. Days when our dog is well-behaved and snuggly. Days when friends disappoint us to our core. Days filled with hospital beeps and medications I can’t pronounce. Days filled with dazzling ocean blues. Days filled with missed emails. Days filled with the best conch chowder you’ve ever had. And days when hurricanes postpone birthdays.

None of it lasts forever. And that’s a good thing. It’s all unfolding into a beautiful, messy, painful, belly-laughter-filled, tear-soaked, journey called growing up.

Unfold, brilliantly.

 

“How wild it was, to let it be.” – Cheryl Strayed