I did it. I had another birthday.
With each passing year, I have become more aware of how precious and fragile life truly is. We make mistakes. We fall. We get hurt. We recover. Shit happens to us. We feel a loss of control over our circumstances. We beat ourselves up over not being perfect: size, shape, friend, lover, parent, role, career. We want to turn back the clock and have a do-over — sometimes at entire decades.
Yet we wouldn’t be who we are today without those mistakes; circumstances; wounds; scars.
A good friend recently told me, “The etymology of character comes from the Greek word for ‘scar’. That’s what gives us character.”
I very much believe in living life to its fullest. This means falling at times. What is more: learning how to fall. It also means being brave. Living in the moment. Accepting grace. It means loving and being loved.
I have been overwhelmed this birthday by how loved I truly am. On Saturday night I was surrounded by family and close friends who purposely sang “Happy Birthday” as loud and off-key as possible. (They know me so well!) Yesterday I floated in the ocean, rode my bicycle, savored homemade cuisine and rocked an impromptu living room karaoke party with the neighbors.
It has been the best birthday, ever.
I do not know what tomorrow holds, but I am ever grateful for my life and the amazing love I have in it.