28 today, and I am the luckiest girl.
I’m not sure where to start or how to say it because every time I try it sounds too good to be true. If I try to articulate my life I feel like I’m bragging.
On the back of a girls weekend in Melbourne filled with food, drink, shopping, good coffee, beautiful baristas, laughing and pretty much nothing else, I find myself reminded of just how much love is out there, and how privileged I am to have so much of it in my life.
27 was tough. 27 was big, it was hard. 27 carried a lot of pain, tearing and testing, and at times feeling like there was no end to anxious stress and uncertainty. 27 was a lot of trial and a lot of learning how to be okay without knowing.
But boy, was there growth.
Personally, professionally, spiritually, mentally, musically physically… This year didn’t mess around in the ways it challenged me. I can’t think of a single front in which I was not pushed to my absolute brink to only surprise myself at what is actually possible.
There were triathlons, there were new professional challenges. There were countless camping trips, there was learning how to push my body and “sort of” identify as a runner. There were new memories made with old friends from the U.S., and new friends made from all over the world. There was more chamber music and campfire jamming, more salsa dancing, more drinking, more writing, more reading, more weekend travels, more new friends, more learning, more living.
There was growth that occurred at a rate I didn’t think was accessible to me.
27 was me digging my heels in and claiming what I wanted from life. It was learning how to be my own cheerleader and to really go for it. 27 was learning how to be a little bit grabby and getting clear on me: what was okay in my book versus what wasn’t, storming the castle and taking home the spoils.
Here’s to 28. Here’s to more of that kind of brutal, refreshing growth-catalysing clarity. Here’s to what’s next; to life.