I’ll be 26 in a half hour

I started this blog a few months after I turned 22. By the time I finish writing this post, I’ll be 26.

That’s a social media savvy way of saying I’m getting old.

Birthdays aren’t a big deal to me, because I think being born and surviving another year is generally not that miraculous. Lots of people are born everyday. All statistics considered, very few of them contract Ebola or get hit by moving vans being driven by drunk drivers.

The worst things that happened to me this year were all in my head. They came from this negative, hyper-analytical thing that lives inside me. From time to time, it feeds on insecurities, grows fat, and thrashes around until I scare it away. You probably have something like that inside you, too.

So that was my biggest hurdle at 25 and really, most years of my life. Otherwise, I’ve been challenged, inspired, and worn out. I’m more comfortable with myself and have learned to keep plants alive (at home - the ones at the office still wither at my touch). I’ve tried to be a better listener and live a story worth telling. I now eat fish, something I eschewed my entire life until TBID said, “Just try one bite.” A 13-year-old confides in me. Some people, sights, memories make me laugh and cry and feel strongly in that “I’m pissed, but at least I’m feeling something strongly” sort of way.

Here’s to much more of all of that.

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