38

Birthdays are just birthdays until one of them is a line drawn in the sand between the life you knew and the life you’re now forced to learn. 38 marks the beginning of living in a world without someone I love deeply. It’s the moment I stepped onto a path I never imagined I’d have to walk.

It feels like I’m moving through darkness, unsure of what lies even ten steps ahead. With this uncertainty comes so much anxiety and fear. I’m learning how to walk again. I’m discovering that my days will likely hold both joy and sorrow. I know now that my happiness hasn’t completely disappeared, but it shares space with a deep sadness. I’ve already caught glimpses of it this month. The coexistence of light and dark. The yin and yang of surviving.

There’s something fitting about a January birthday. January is cold, brutal, and unwavering. It sure knows how to throw obstacles in your way when you're just trying to feel any joy or celebration of your existence. There’s a special kind of resilience that seems to flow through winter babies, and perhaps that’s where my stubborn determination comes from. Rebirth doesn’t always come from flowery patches or moments of warmth. Sometimes it rises from the cold, dark places. This season of my life isn’t about being bright or whole yet, but about being resilient. To trust that whatever survives winter is strong enough to grow again.

I’m making a promise to myself to take better care of my heart, be gentler with myself, and do what's best for me. I’m honestly surprised I’ve made it this far, and maybe that alone deserves recognition. I deserve more celebration than I’ve allowed myself. For a long time, my birthday had been a sad reminder that I was still here, with little change in my life. That when people wished me “happy” birthday, there was nothing happy about it. I always thought of it as “birthday blues,” not realizing it was much darker than that.

This birthday feels like a warm reminder for me to keep moving forward. I can look toward the light in the darkness, refusing to let it consume me. I can hold onto my sadness without letting it define who I am, allowing my healing to happen on my own time. I can recognize my resilience and honor that I am still here… still growing and becoming someone who truly values life. Turning 38 isn’t just another year. It’s proof that even in grief, I keep going. And maybe, that’s a good enough reason to celebrate myself. 💛