For the last couple of months, I’ve been dreading this day. Turning twenty-six symbolized to me all of the dreams and goals I hadn’t yet accomplished, and diminished those things that I had. Twenty-five held a lot of personal, mental and emotional growth for me. I stretched and ached in ways I never had before, cut out things that held me back and stood up for myself more times than I can count; something I’d not previously known how to do. But all of this growth, this maturity, was all inside. There was nothing truly tangible I could pick up and show you that I’d done this last year.

One of my larger goals in life is to be a full-time musician. Actually, a part-time or part-part-time musician will do. Since age 11 I’ve known this is just what I have to do if I ever want to be fully satisfied and happy. It’s not a compromise for me. It’s not a pipe dream. It’s something I have to do to be really me. (CHEESE BALL) Anyway, part of me naively thought that magically when I exchanged my Gladewater address for a Dallas one that all of these tiny little dreams would manifest themselves. I’d finally get to be who I thought I was supposed to be all those years ago. When none, and I mean none, of that happened I shouldn’t have been surprised when I fell. Hard. Coupled with a rough breakup and being alone in a new city, it was almost all over for me. The amount of times I wanted to pack it all up and move back home is embarrassing. But I stuck it out, probably for no other reason than my incredible stubbornness. I reached out for professional help, and while those months were still incredibly dark, they could’ve been a lot darker. I came out of that season more knowledgeable about my anxiety and depression and how to avoid feeling like that. I decided to stop dating and end those weird little flirty “relationships” with guys I knew would never date me. I ended friendships that, to me, weren’t healthy anymore. I adopted another dog and made hard goals for myself. I let myself dream bigger and stepped out of my comfort zone and met new people. I said ‘yes’ more to the good and ‘no’ to the not good.

So, no. Twenty-five was not a failure. Over the last week I’ve realized that while I still have lofty goals and dreams that haven’t yet been reached, I can reward myself for building a solid soul foundation and surrounding myself with people that lift me up and encourage me. So when I do reach those goals, I can do so in a healthy and strong way. My adult life has been slow going. Sometimes I feel like I’m starting at square one, but the ever looming shadow of twenty-six has reminded me that I’m still here for a reason. I’ve been and done all of this junk for a reason. I moved here for a reason. I still have goals and I still have a life to live and I should stop mourning things that haven’t happened yet. Because that’s just it. They haven’t happened yet.

I’m so grateful to my friends and family for carrying me through this last year. I honestly don’t think I’d be here if it weren’t for all of them. So, thank you. I love you more than you can possibly know.

I’m living all my days in the sun. Cheers to twenty-six!

 

 

xx