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

Well, it’s here! The day I turn 25. Pretty anti-climactic, huh? When I was a teenager, I fantasized about who I would be at this age. Older, life together, super cool, established, etc. It’s funny. We make these plans and develop a vision for our future selves, but, at least in my case, they look drastically different from who we are right now. Instead, we live our lives and become the selves we’re meant to be by circumstance, hurts, joys, and just life, man. I still feel like that 14 year old imagining who I’ll be ten years from now at 35. I’ll finally be an adult! I’ll have my life in order! A house! Stacked retirement fund! Worship leader! But the reality is, I live my life and do my best to follow the One guiding my steps and humbly step into the person he’s molding me to be. It’s such a beautifully painful journey.

Last year on my 24th birthday I made a very short list of goals to reach by the time I hit 25. I’m happy to report I met them all. Well, except one. (But I mean really, who can save $9,000 in a year on retail salary?)

Why do I always forget just how much can change in twelve months? September of last year I was dating a guy who turned out to be the living worst and then continued to date a slew of guys that were also kind of the worst. I wouldn’t trade that time, though. In and through that my skin got roughed up and became thicker. I learned to rely on other people. My twenties have just been one hurt after another followed by grace on top of grace and then stacked with indescribable joy on top of joy. (blessings on blessings on blessings amirite) I don’t think I’ll ever not feel like that 14 year old Melody dreaming up visions of her future self.

I don’t want this post to sound like oh, my life is so hard and so sad and blah blah blah because it’s not! I LOVE MY LIFE. I get to live in the coolest city, experience something new every single day, meet new people, work for a non-profit that does some cool stuff, and the list goes on!

Over the last year I saved up and moved to my dream city, bought my dream car, fell in love, ate my weight in chocolate, then lost that weight, become 85% self-sufficient, settled into some serious happiness, and committed to living my own life. Not someone else’s.

I’ll never be the pinnacle of myself. I’ll always be evolving and changing and developing into who I’m supposed to be. And right now, I’m 25 living in Dallas, dating a preeeeetty cool dude, living with the best dog ever in the sweetest apartment ever. What will 26 look like? (OH GOD I’M SO MUCH CLOSER TO 30.)

Happy Birthday September babies! Treat yo self.

xx

Side Note: I should really take some updated selfies. Cruise pics from March are not current, Melody!