Happy for Every Birthday I Get

I turned twenty-nine this week. 

And I've fully decided I am the type of person who reflects more on their birthday than I do on the first of the calendar year.  It means more to me.  Knowing it's been another year of days since June 18, 1983 when my blonde hair and blue eyes and independent soul was brought into this world. 

I look back.  I look forward.  I look at the in-between. 

When I think about where I was my last birthday, it's almost as if I am thinking of a different person.  A naive girl.  One who had created this happy little existence for herself.  One who didn't let anyone bother that little world of hers so she would always have control.  One who thought she had it all figured out.  One who couldn't figure out why everyone else couldn't figure it out too.  One who thought it was easy.   

When I think about where I am now, I am none of those things.  I've seen the hurt caused to friends I love by uncontrollable things like a flood.  I've let people in and let go of control and been hurt myself because of it.  And I have nothing figured out.  Nothing.   

So if I would have one thing to say about my twenty-eighth year it's this. 

It's the year I grew up. 

Like really grew up. 

The year of the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

The year I loved without abandon. 

The year I, for the first time, really struggled with choices and decisions and forks in the road.  For the first time ever, I often wondered what the sam hill I was doing with myself. 

The year I made mistakes. 

The year I had a few wins. 

Really.  My twenty-eighth year was the year I grew up.  Realized life is never something I can control.  Realized family and friends and loved ones are the end all ticket.  Realized sometimes my friends need to cry in the middle of Target.  Realized sometimes I need to cry in the grocery store while looking for an eleven ounce can of corn.  Realized crying doesn't mean we are weak; it means we are feeling.  Realized ridiculous singing of made up songs and squeeze hugs and silly inappropriateness can brighten moods right up.   

Realized there is no time for judgement of others as I never know when I'll be faced with something where it's me who has to make the hard choice.  Whatever that might be.  Because every day in every way we are all faced with decisions.  Choices about how we act, who we love, where we live, what we do for work, what we allow others to do for us, what we do for others.  Decisions.  All the time.  And people don't purposefully make those with the intention of messing up.  They make them by looking at what makes sense for them.  So who am I to judge?  I am not. 

I've grown up.  Am I done growing?  Of course not.  But I can do things now like actually cook a meal to feed other people who come to my house.  And I can help friends move and move again.  And I can let people in...knowing it might end with hurt.  But also knowing it's worth it.  Because I learn.  I learn from every single decision I make.    

I've grown up to realize that life is one big show of ebb and flow.  I've realized I can keep a positive attitude and hold onto my happiness even through the rougher waves.  I've realized the only thing I can control in this big old world is myself.  My outlook.  My actions.  My thoughts.  My giving.  My taking.  My hope is as long as I am working on being the best version of me, everything else will fall into place or out of place as it should.   

I've realized I wouldn't change anything about the last year.  Because it forced me to grow my ass up.  But I also know I'm glad to be twenty-nine.  Glad to be starting a new year of me with a fresh outlook.  Glad to have the opportunity every day to be grateful and happy and a lover of life.  Unicorns, glitter, pretty skies that make you pull over to the side of the road when you are on your way home from birthday family dinner, and all.