Another Year

It’s the evening before my birthday and I’m sat here crying. because as that date has gotten closer and closer this gnawing feeling has been churning its way through my body. The feeling that this is it now — my “oh shit, I’m actually an adult” moment. Life has carried on for me, whether or not I have chosen to be a willing participant, and it will continue to do so.

I cry out of relief that the penny has finally dropped, but also out of deep sadness that it has taken this long.

Because as I’ve gotten older I’ve learnt that things often will twist themselves into complicated little messes, just as much as they untangle themselves into neat lines. I have learnt that what used to mean a lot to me I no longer bat an eyelid at, but the things that I deemed inferior now matter the most. I’ve come to understand that not all flawed things require fixing because being flawed doesn’t equate to being broken, the idea of perfection is nothing more than that — an idea. Once hopelessly stuck living in the past, not only can I now envision my future but I can be certain that I will make it that far.

There are so many things that I could say, so many lessons I could share — perhaps one day I will. But knowing that each of us have had such vastly different trajectories of living means it would be pointless trying to share one approach to life, because one size does not fit all.

So, it’s the evening before my birthday. My final year on this crazy planet to go bonkers before my frontal lobe fully develops and I’m stuck like this forever. And instead of writing an inspiring list of 23 life lessons I’ve learnt at 23, I’m sat on my sofa crying. My tears are for all that I’ve lost yet I’ve gained, for all of the hurt felt yet the happiness that followed, for all of my past personalities that walked so that my current one could run. I cry because I’m still the stubborn little girl that refuses to grow up. Most of all I cry because I want to get it all out of my system now, because it’s bad luck to cry on your birthday.

Rather than write what I’m sure would have been a list of pure genius, I leave you with this — a series of thank yous worthy of an Oscar acceptance speech:

Thank you to my boyfriend for proving to me that good men do indeed exist, and for sticking by my side despite it all. Thank you to both of my sisters, who I am so incredibly proud of, for all of the laughs and fights and everything in-between. Thank you to my Dad for teaching me that even if love feels invisible it is still there — it shows itself in so many different ways. Thank you to my Mum for showing me that time may get lost but there will always be plenty more of it. Thank you to my grandparents for not holding it against me when I’m a bad granddaughter and don’t call as often as I should — I hope that I will always make you both proud. Thank you to Claire and John for being the glue that holds my family together — you have both done so much for us and I’m so lucky and thankful to have you in my life, more than you realise. Thank you to the people at work for making me feel liked and wanted for the first time in a long time. And, last but not least, thank you to all of you reading this — I have made so many wonderful friends on this platform and I am so grateful for the community I have become part of.

I think that that’s the last of my tears now. I’m all cried out and I’m ready to face tomorrow. I am so immensely fortunate to have made it another year.